


Delay of Game

by asideofladies, McMeagger



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 16:07:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8630545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asideofladies/pseuds/asideofladies, https://archiveofourown.org/users/McMeagger/pseuds/McMeagger
Summary: Tony Stark is the quickly-aging-out captain of the New York Ultimates hockey team. He’s been having a rough few years, and it would be nice to get his team one Calder Cup before he faces his inevitable retirement. Steve Rogers is the new up-and-coming captain of the Brooklyn Howlers. He’s just trying to do his best, and play the best hockey he can. Their teams are bitter rivals, and the fans would like nothing more than for them to come to blows on the ice.They have a slightly different idea on how to handle things.





	

**Author's Note:**

> “Everybody has a lot of feelings”/I guess there’s a plot author - @McMeagger  
> smut-author/proof reader - @asideofladies  
> Fantabulous art by - @ellidfics
> 
> Special thanks to my brother for being the resident hockey expert, even though he didn’t know what he was answering questions for, and we ignored basically everything he told us.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: While we do know things about hockey, and how it functions as an organization, we have decided to totally ignore that for purposes of plot. We have created a magical fictional universe where the AHL acts all willy nilly as a feeder for the NHL, and where sports media cares about the AHL A LOT. More than I think anyone cares about the AHL in real life. We acknowledge that we probably should have just used the Junior A division or something. But this was more fun.

_The big news today as the local AHL teams start their pre-season training is that Chester Phillips, the Brooklyn Howler’s captain, is out for good from the leg injury that had him down for half of last season. Steve Rogers, the young defenseman for the Howlers in only his second year on the team, has been voted the new team captain. Goalie James Barnes and centre Sam Wilson have been voted into the positions as his alternates. Hopefully this change of pace is a good one for the Howlers, who were beat last year in game seven of the Calder Cup final. It will be interesting to see how this change affects game play against the Howler’s biggest rivals, the New York Ultimates._

 

            Tony Stark had been the team captain of the New York Ultimates for so many years that he no longer felt it was necessary to pay any attention to the team’s first meeting of the season. It was always pretty much the same. Blah blah blah lost last season blah blah do better this year blah blah practice practice practice. So instead of actually listening to his coaches and management, Tony generally spent the entire meeting on his phone researching (and definitely in no way stalking) their main rival team, the Brooklyn Howlers.

            And so that was where Tony found himself at the start of yet another season: sitting in the locker room with the rest of his team, waiting for the people who are actually in charge of the meeting to show up. Tony takes a minute to silently resent Hill and Natasha for calling the meeting so early in the morning. As owner and coach one would think that they’d care about the well being of their players and their sleep schedules. Maybe Tony could have a word with Pepper about having things start before 9:00 am. She's was only the team’s PR manager, but Tony is pretty sure she has more pull with Natasha than she lets on. She could at least prevent the horror that was the 6:00 am practices of last season. ‘Good for the soul.’ Yeah, right.

            Tony must have been more tired than he thought, because he jumps a little at the sound of the door opening.

            “The Howlers have a new captain this year,” Natasha says, entering the locker room abruptly and starting the meeting without preamble, as was her usual style, with Hill and Pepper at her heels.

            Tony looks up sharply as he processes that. “Who is it? And what happened to Phillips?”

            Natasha shoots him a look. “His injury from last season turned out to be a lot more permanent than expected. The new captain is Steve Rogers.”

            “Rogers?” Tony asks with a raised eyebrow. “The weirdly scrawny defense guy?” He snorts. “I’m terrified, I’m sure.”

            “Not so scrawny anymore, according to my sources,” Hill says from her place next to the white board. “He bulked up over the summer. Unlike some people.” She says this last part with a pointed look at Tony, which he chooses to ignore. Off-season training is for people who are way more gung- ho than him.

            "Your sources meaning Fury, right?” he asks with a smirk. “Just so we’re clear that we all know you’re buddy buddy with our rival team’s owner. And apparently spend time exchanging information about us.”

“A new captain,” Natasha cuts in. “Means new plays and strategies from them, that means new plays and strategies for us. Unless you all want to get as horrifyingly beat down as last year.”

            Bruce has the decency to look sheepish while Tony just scoffs and rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and looking away. Rhodey just sighs. Last year had not been the greatest season for the team. Unfortunately, just the latest not so good season in what was becoming an annual trend for the Ultimates.

            It wasn’t that they weren’t _good_ it was just that all the other teams seemed to be improving exponentially every season, while the Ultimates remained kind of stagnant at what had been considered “great” five years ago.

            Tony sort of knows, deep down, that at least part of that can be contributed to the fact that a lot of the players on the team are getting older, himself included, and that they were bringing in fewer young “up and comers” than they used to.

            He takes a quick look around the room while Natasha starts talking about practices and bonding and strategies and whatever else Natasha talks about. His eyes land on Peter Parker, their only new acquire this year. He’s exceptionally young, probably just out of high school. He only fell somewhere in the middle of draft picks, but Tony decides he’s going to be optimistic about the kid. Maybe he can pull them out of their rut just by being young and eager and whatever else kids were these days.

            “You get that, Tony?”

            Tony startles out of his musings and grins at Pepper. “Of course I did. What do you take me for?

            “Great,” Pepper says, a slightly evil glint in her eyes. “Then I’ll see you Saturday at 6:00.”

            Tony blinks, and Pepper smiles at him as she turns and walks out of the room after Natasha and Hill. The rest of the team is looking at him. Rhodey with a slight expression of ‘I can’t believe you, Tony, except I can because I’ve known you for way too long’.

            Tony grins sheepishly. “So. What’s on Saturday?”

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

            Meanwhile, across the Harlem river in Brooklyn, the Howlers were having their own first meeting of the season. It was a slightly more subdued affair than the Ultimates’, but only slightly, and only for now. Steve Rogers (aforementioned ‘weirdly scrawny defense guy’ who had recently bulked up) knew that it wouldn’t last. He’d only been on this team for one year, which, frankly, was enough time to know that it took barely anything to offset the balance from ‘focused hockey team who really want to get better and win’ into… Well… Frat boy territory.

            At the moment he's mostly just glad that Bucky and Sam aren’t fighting. Which is weird, actually. Even if they weren’t shouting at each other they were usually silently fuming and pouting and creating a weird tension in the room. He glances up at them quickly and notes that they're sitting across the locker room from each other, so, that explains that, really.

            Steve starts contemplating the ways he could force Bucky and Sam to become friends, or at least stop hating each other SO much now that he's captain when the door bursts open and the Howlers’ owner Nick Fury walks in, followed by Phil Coulson and Jasper Sitwell, the team’s coach and GM, respectively.

            “Listen up, mother fuckers,” Fury says, moving to the front of the room and crossing his arms.

            “Hey!” Clint says, sitting up from where he’d been laying on the bench, possibly asleep. “You can’t talk to us like that. We are _professionals_.”

            “I own you, Barton, “ Fury says, rolling his one good eye. “Literally. Now _listen up mother fuckers_.”

            Clint huffs and crosses his arms, slouching down on the bench. Steve sits up a little straighter, and glares at Bucky until he puts his phone down with an eye roll.

            “Okay,” Fury says, once everyone is looking at him. “I’ll try to keep it brief. I know we all just got back from what I’m sure was a very relaxing vacation, or what the fuck ever, but there’s already a fundraising gala this Saturday.”

            Bucky makes a face and makes a move like he’s going to grab his phone again. Steve elbows him and gives him a look.

            “Don’t you dare,” he hisses.

            “Whatever you say, _captain_ ,” Bucky whispers back with a grin.

            “For some reason the gala organizers think people want to see you fuckers, so I expect to see all of you there,” Fury continues, leveling them all with a look.

            Clint groans loudly before Coulson silences him with a look.

            “It’s black tie,” Coulson says, looking calmly around the room. “So make sure you dress appropriately. If you don’t I’ll make you skate suicides until you puke at Monday’s practice.”

           The entire team makes faces and groans until Fury gives them all a glare with his one eye.

            “Every New York area player in the AHL will be there, and if you fuckers embarrass me you’ll be doing a lot worse than skating suicides. Clear?”

            There’s a small amount of quiet mumbling that Fury takes as agreement.

            “Okay, time to hear from your new team captain. Rogers,” Fury says with a nod, moving off to the side where Coulson and Sitwell are standing.

            Steve takes a breath and stands, moving to the front of the room with a nervous grin.

            “Hey guys,” he says, nervously. He’d never been one for public speaking. Who thought this captain thing was a good idea?

            “Hi Steve, “ Bucky and Clint chorus, because they think they’re funny.

            Sam snorts, until he realizes it’s at least partially directed at Bucky, and then schools his face into a neutral expression, and throws a quick scowl in Bucky’s direction. Just in case.

            Steve raises his eyebrow at them all and launches into his pre-planned talk. He hopes he doesn’t come off too earnest, but he really wants the team to do well this year. He’s optimistic about their chances, if he can just figure out how to get Bucky and Sam to stop fighting so much.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

_New York area AHL teams are coming together tonight at the Grand Hyatt Hotel in midtown to help raise funds for the New York Presbyterian Children’s Hospital. Focus tonight will be on rival captains Steve Rogers and Tony Stark, as we see them interacting for the first time off the ice since Rogers’ promotion to Howlers’ team captain._

 

            Most parties attended by hockey players tend to go the route of frat parties and keg parties and any kind of party that involves teenage boys and boys in their early twenties. In short, they tend to turn into fucking disasters at some point. Charity events are the one exception to this rule. They are the one time when you can put a hockey player in a suit and expect him to still be in it by the end of the night. Generally speaking.            

            Tony is thinking about this as he stands at a cocktail table close to the wall at the charity gala the Ultimates have been forced to attend. It’s probably a combination of the expensive venues and the amount of press allowed at these things, he muses as he sips at this drink.

            Nobody wants to be the hockey player caught shirtless, dancing on tables, at an event that helps the children’s hospital. Or possibly an orphanage. He’s not entirely sure what this event is benefitting, but he’s almost positive it has something to do with children. Or maybe puppies…

            He should definitely find Pepper and ask her what it is he’s supposed to be supporting tonight, before a reporter shows up and starts asking him questions. Because that would be embarrassing, and Tony Stark is past embarrassing himself at charity events. It’s been like three years. He’s doing pretty good, if he does say so himself.

            He takes a quick look around but doesn’t see Pepper in the vicinity. Instead he spots a couple members of the Howlers prowling around and scowls. He knows the rivalry shouldn’t really extend beyond the ice, but that Bucky Barnes character gives him vibes.

            Tony wonders if Steve Rogers is here. He’d like to get a look at the new and improved model before he has to play against him in the first game of the season. He takes another drink as he keeps looking around and almost chokes on it as he sees Steve Rogers himself emerging from the crowd in front of him.

            ‘Bulked up’ is putting whatever happened to Rogers over the break mildly. The man has changed from a slip of a man, one who would fall over if you breathed wrong near him, into a god damned _Greek god_. A blonde Greek god, but still. Over the couple months of the break Steve Rogers has become _hot_.

            Tony finally manages to swallow his drink and then almost chokes again as Steve Rogers comes up to his table and smiles shyly.

            “Hi.”

            Tony looks around behind him, stupidly. Since there’s a wall there, he assumes that Rogers is, in fact, talking to him.

            “Um… Hi?”

            Steve’s smile widens a little. “Can I…?” He trails off and gestures to the table.

            “Oh! Uh… Sure,” Tony says after a second’s delay as he realizes that Steve Rogers wants to _join him_. “By all means.”

            Steve sets his drink down on the table and moves around so he’s across from Tony.

            “I know we’re supposed to be these big rivals or whatever,” Steve starts, fiddling with the napkin his glass is sitting on. “But I never actually got to meet you last year, and I thought I’d introduce myself to you. Y’know. Captain to captain.”

            Tony grins slightly. “I heard you got made captain. Congrats. Pretty impressive after only one year on the team.”

            Steve smiles sheepishly and ducks his head as he blushes a little. It shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. Tony kicks himself mentally to try and knock himself out of whatever has come over his brain in the last five minutes. He’s totally unsuccessful.

            “I guess I made an impression or something,” Steve says with a small shrug. “I kinda think Bucky maybe had something to do with it.”

            “Barnes?” Tony asks, raising an eyebrow.

            “Yeah,” Steve replies. “We’ve been friends since we were kids. We played Pee wee together.”

            “Adorable,” Tony says with a grin. “Still, it’s a pretty big deal. Impressive, really.”

            “Yeah,” Steve says, looking down and twisting his drink around. “The… The, uh… Sportscasters have been spending a lot of time focusing on it. It’s uh, a bit weird, really.”

            Tony feels a pang of solidarity with Steve for a moment. He knows all too well what it’s like to have the media focusing the brunt of its attention on you. He thinks for a minute that it can’t really be all that better to have the attention be because of a positive thing than it is for the negative attention that Tony got a few years back. Less yelling on the streets, maybe, but still too much attention from strangers to be entirely comfortable.

            “I get that,” Tony says to Steve after an almost too long pause. He eyes him for a minute, and then blows the awkwardness off with a smirk. “You’ll do fine though. Young strapping thing like you.”

            Steve’s blush starts crawling down his neck and he opens his mouth to respond when he’s interrupted by the sudden appearance of Nick Fury at his elbow.

            Fury eyes both hockey players with a look that says he’s suspicious of them and sets his drink down on the table. “Gentlemen.”

            “Nicholas,” Tony says, taking a sip.

            Fury focuses all his attention on Tony and narrows his eye. “You trying to psych out my captain, Stark? Because we can play it that way if that’s what you want.”

            Tony holds up both his hands and looks offended. “Hey now. Your captain approached me. We’re just having some good old fashioned sport camaraderie. Love of the game, etcetera.”

            “Love of the game, my ass,” Fury says picking up his drink and draining it. He turns to Steve and points a finger at his face. “If I think you’re holding back even a little bit in the first game because of this motherfucking ‘camaraderie,’ I will make you wish you had never even heard of this stupid ass game.”

            With that he turns away, somehow manages a dramatic cape flip with his suit jacket, and walks away from them muttering something about "Goddamn hockey players" under his breath.

            Steve turns to Tony with a small smile and a shrug. "Sorry. I don't even think he likes hockey. I'm not sure how he came to own a team."

            "He has a bet with Hill," Tony says, taking a drink.

            "What?" Steve blinks.

            "It's an ongoing bet," Tony waves his hand vaguely. "I'm not sure on the exact parameters, but it involves both of them owning hockey teams."

            Steve tilts his head and stares Tony down, as if he’s trying to sense whether or not this is a lie.

            “How… How do you even get into a bet like that?”

            Tony shrugs and finishes his drink. “You’re rich and have too much time on your hands.”

            He grabs a champagne flute off the tray of a passing waiter and downs it in one. He gives Steve a quick up and down and decides there are worse places at this party he could be. He turns more fully into the table and leans on his elbows, crowding into Steve’s space ever so slightly.

            “So. Steven. How did you come to play for the Howlers anyway?”

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            Tony shoots a glance at Steve across the table. Steve's had a couple drinks in the time he's been talking to Tony, and he seems to have loosened up a little. He’s laughing easily at what Tony says, his eyes bright and his cheeks a little pink.

            Tony has had An Amount of alcohol by this point. He's not entirely sure he's had enough for his brain to be going where it is, but he's still thinking about the way that Steve is leaning casually into his space, how he fiddles with his cufflinks, how he runs his hand through the short hair at the back of his neck. Tony wants to take his clothes off. He decides to go for it. What has he got to lose?

            "Hey, uh, listen," Tony swirls the ice cubes around in the bottom of his glass. "You wanna get out of here? I mean, we've been around, we've made our appearances."

            Steve looks up at him like he's surprised that Tony's even asking. He seems to be considering it.

            "Yeah... Yeah, sure," Steve says, swallowing the last of his drink and setting down the glass, straightening out his jacket. "The rest of the team can hold down the fort for the rest of the evening, I'm sure."

            They get themselves together and after a quick look around to make sure no one’s watching, Tony leads Steve out of the hall and into the lobby, phone already out of his pocket to call for his ride.

            "It's a bit far from here, but we could stop off at my place before..." Tony trails off. Before what? He's usually pretty good about this whole thing, but something about Steve Rogers has him off balance.

            In retrospect, he probably should have seen it coming. Instead, Tony has to shake himself a little when Steve says, "Actually, I've got a hotel room upstairs, if you want."

            Tony blinks at him.

            "I didn't want to make the trip back out to Brooklyn this late," Steve shrugs.

            "Okay, yeah, sure," Tony smirks, trying to fake confidence, gesturing out in front of him. "Lead the way, handsome."

            Steve sort of rolls his eyes and huffs out a little laugh, brushing past Tony towards the elevator. It's the kind of offhand comment Tony makes all the time; his nicknames for Rhodey range all the way from 'honey bear' to 'husband,' depending on the mood he's in. So this doesn't do anything to betray the fact that Tony does think that Steve is really, really handsome, and is planning on doing inappropriate things with him. Soon. In his hotel room.

            He's not that worried about the gay thing either, not really. Sure, hockey attracts some meathead pricks, as much as does any other game where players regularly ram into each other at full speed wearing shoes with knives on them. But ever since the Zimmermann kid became the first NHL player to openly come out mid-career, people were a little less worried about the consequences. If Tony was the captain of the New York Rangers, maybe, but as it stands he's the captain of a little AHL team that hasn't so much as seen the cup in the past five years. So he’s not that worried. Not really. (Maybe a little.)

            What Tony should be worried about, is being caught skulking off with the captain of the rival team. Hill would absolutely have his head if she were to find out.

            Good thing she isn't going to.

            The elevator ride up to Steve's room is fairly uneventful. Steve stands a respectable distance away from Tony, his hands stashed in his pockets. Tony thinks he sees the shadow of a smile on Steve's lips, but before he can do anything about it the bell chimes and the doors open onto Steve's floor. They manage to make it all the way down the hallway and inside the room before Tony pounces on Steve.

            The lights are dim in Steve's hotel room, and Tony doesn't care to turn them on. He crowds into Steve's space and puts his hands on Steve's hips underneath his blazer.

            “Hey," Tony says. Steve's blue eyes look dark and blown out as he unknots his tie.

            “Hi," Steve says, casting his gaze down. His eyelashes are downright ridiculous. Tony kisses him, then, and the smell of Steve's cologne makes him feel more drunk than he actually is.

            Steve really did bulk up during the off season. Tony runs his hands up and over the flat planes of his stomach, and he can feel the hard cut of Steve's abs, the swell of his pecs. He loops his arms around the back of Steve's neck, suit jacket bunching somewhat uncomfortably around his shoulders.

            "Jesus, Rogers," Tony croons, his mouth against Steve's neck. "How'd you get so big over the summer? Eat your trainer or something?"

            Steve laughs, walking them backwards towards the bed. "Guess I finally hit my growth spurt," he says.

            Tony pushes him towards the bed and stops to take his own jacket off. He doesn't really know Rogers, at least not beyond what they talked about tonight, but this is easy for him. He's done it before; it's a lot easier to have random hookups with people involved with the league, when you know they definitely aren't going to blab to the media, because the potential fallout would affect them as much as it affects you.

            Tony slides his belt out of his pants, stepping out of his shoes, and Steve makes a noise in the back of his throat. Tony drops his jacket over the back of the desk chair and advances on Steve, grabbing him by the lapels.

            They kiss, and Tony can feel the surge of pent up energy in the way that Steve kisses back, licking into his mouth hungrily, eyes sliding closed as he brings his big hands up to grab at Tony. They topple backwards onto the bed and Tony climbs on top of Steve, pulling his shirt up and untucking it from his pants.

            "Do you want me to...?" Steve asks, half sitting up, awkwardly rumpling what is probably a very expensive suit, by the looks of it. Tony shakes his head sitting back on his haunches where he's straddling Steve.

            "Nah... I mean, make yourself comfortable?" Tony says, running his fingers along the inside of Steve's thigh and watching the way it makes the muscle jump underneath the smooth fabric. "But I'm kind of impatient by nature and honestly you look pretty good in this suit. What is this, Tom Ford?"

            Steve is shrugging out of his jacket, and setting it to the side, and he starts to unbutton his collar, getting two, three buttons down before Tony stops him with a hand on his wrist. Steve looks up at him and Tony's lips curve into a smirk.

            "Let me do it."

            Tony can practically hear Steve swallow as he dips his head down to mouth along the soft skin of Steve's neck. He revels in the small sound Steve makes in his throat, the way Steve arches up into his touch.

            "You like that?" Tony asks as he unbuttons Steve's shirt the rest of the way. Steve breathes out, quiet, _yeah_ , and rolls his hips up to meet Tony's. The pressure sends a shiver down Tony's spine, and he concentrates on sucking a mark onto Steve's chest.

            Tony is working his way down Steve's torso, kissing and licking and biting, when Steve hooks an ankle around Tony's knees and swiftly flips them over. It throws a wrench into Tony's plan, but he isn't exactly complaining about it. It's more of a sexy wrench than anything. This is the kind of thing he loves.

            Despite his cool and collected exterior, Tony Stark is usually thinking about at least five things at once; low-key freaking out about two of those things, and high-key freaking out about one or two more. So yeah, he's a little high strung. Before, when he was younger and a little more reckless and a lot more stupid, he used to medicate this with a cute coke addiction. (If by cute you mean landed him in rehab.)

            This, the rough press of their bodies against one another, the way that Tony gets lost in the feeling of Steve's mouth against his; this is a much better option.

            Steve has pulled Tony's shirt up and out of his pants, unbuttoned it halfway before getting distracted by Tony's hands on his ass. Steve is all big hands and sure movements, and Tony is starting to see the echo of how he must move on the ice.

            Tony is groaning into Steve's mouth, legs spread wide as he rocks up against the solid wall of muscle that is Steve's body. When Steve reaches down between them to palm at Tony through his pants, Tony remembers that he's a man on a mission, and pushes him off.

            "What—" Steve sits back, looking up at Tony. God. His hair is mussed and his lips are slightly swollen from kissing. Steve isn't wearing an undershirt (of course he's not) which shows Tony that his blush really does go all the way down.

            "Get on your back," Tony says, and waits for Steve to re-arrange himself.

            Steve does, obediently, and settles back against the pillows of the bed. Tony grabs at his own dick through the fabric of his pants, because get it together Stark, he's a grown ass man and he's not about to come in his pants like some kind of teenager. Steve's mouth falls open in a small moan as Tony settles himself between Steve's knees and unbuckles Steve's belt, pulling the zipper down on his pants.

            Tony is vaguely aware that Steve might still be wearing his shoes. He mouths at the bulge of Steve's dick through his briefs and thinks that Steve probably doesn't care. Tony rubs his thumb and forefinger along the junction of Steve's thigh and Steve exhales slowly through his nose, palms pressed firmly against his legs.

            When Tony looks up, Steve's head is pressed back into the pillows, the long column of his throat exposed attractively, and Tony is momentarily mesmerized before he turns back to the task at hand. The task being getting Steve's glorious dick into his mouth ASAP.

            Tony pulls the waistband of Steve's underwear down enough that he can get his dick and balls out, and he wraps his hand around the base, soft skin feeling hot and heavy in his grip.

            "Jesus," Tony swears, his mouth feeling dry.

            When he looks up again Steve is gazing down at him with a nearly reverent expression, mouth still slightly open. Tony counts this as a win and takes the head of Steve's erection into his mouth, tongue flat against the bottom. He bobs his head, bringing his mouth down to meet his fist, and he feels a fluttering touch against his hair; like Steve wants to touch but thought better of it.

            "Mmh," Tony tries to say, but his mouth is kind of full. He pulls back, lips slick with saliva. "You can," He inclines his head, indicating his hair. "You can grab it if you want, pull a little, I don't mind."

            Tony half expects a tentative touch, soft stroking of his hair before Steve goes all the way. Instead, as soon as Tony dips his head back down Steve grabs onto his hair, grip firm. Huh. Tony is consistently surprised by how quickly Steve catches on. Not complaining, mind you.

            So Tony swallows him down, spurred on by the way Steve's fingers tighten in his hair, his hips rocking shallowly up to meet Tony's movements.

            "Shit," Steve says, and his voice sounds rough. Tony shivers. He tugs at Steve's balls with his free hand and Steve says, " _Shit_ " Tony laps his tongue over the head of Steve's dick, catching Steve's eye as he really hollows out his cheeks and sucks, and Tony thinks ' _shit_.' Steve looks so blissed out, the colour high in his cheeks, his breathing coming in shorter and shorter breaths.

           Then Steve goes "Oh- oh my god, I'm-" and he's coming, and Tony just opens his throat and swallows.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

_Well, this is it, the first game of the American Hockey League season over here in the east. Always nice to start off with a good, solid rivalry game. Although, it’s hard to say how solid it will be with the Ultimates playing. They’ve definitely been waning in recent years, and captain Tony Stark hasn’t done much to help that. But who knows? Maybe this year will be the one where Stark finally makes his long awaited come back. Let’s go live to the Brooklyn arena now and see what happens._

 

            The guest team locker room at the Brooklyn arena has a slight stench of socks to it. It doesn’t really do anything to add to the uncomfortable feeling that’s permeating both the locker room and the entire team of New York Ultimates, who are all sitting in a tense silence. Tony is idly wondering if an air freshener might help as he tapes his stick, exceedingly carefully.

            He is very pointedly trying not to focus on who they’re playing. Not only are the Howlers ranked at almost the very top of the league, which will make them exceptionally hard for the much lower ranked Ultimates to beat, but after the charity gala, Tony’s not sure he can look Steve Rogers in the face without completely losing his cool and his ability to play hockey. Or whatever ability he still has left, anyway. Tony’s hand slips slightly on the end of his stick and he stops and closes his eyes, letting out a deep breath.

            Rhodey, sitting next to him on the bench, looks up from where he’s taping his own stick. He gives Tony what is probably supposed to be a comforting look. “Don’t worry so much, Tone. It’s only the first game, no matter what happens we can come back from it.”

            Tony tries to give Rhodey a reassured smile. He thinks it probably comes out a little lopsided. “Yeah. Thanks, Rhodey.”

            Rhodey smiles back and returns to taping his stick. Tony also turns back to his own, but his mind is still focused on Rogers.

            If only winning the game was the only thing stressing him out, but no, Tony had to go and hook up with Steve fucking Rogers. Rival team captain that Tony never had a chance of beating, anyway.

            Now he _really_ doesn’t have a chance with the way that he loses his entire mind every time he even so much as pictures Rogers’ stupid beautiful face. Maybe the helmet will help tone it down…

            He finishes taping his stick and sets it aside, contemplating just how attractive a mouth guard could possibly be when Natasha enters the locker room, looking slightly gleeful. Or, at least, as gleeful as Natasha ever looks.

            "Alright," Natasha says, eyeing the players scattered around the room. "Barton's out on an injury, and he's easily the Howlers best shot, so we may actually have a chance here."

            "He's out again?" Bruce asks, with a raised eyebrow. "He spent half of last season out. What did he do this time?"

            Natasha waves her hand. "Probably fell down in the locker room. It doesn't matter. What matters is that we have a way higher chance of scoring now that we don’t have to focus so hard on defending against Barton.”

            “So, what, we’re totally changing our strategy? Now? Fifteen minutes before the game starts?” Peter asks from where he‘s tucked into a corner. His voice gets higher pitched as he goes on, and Tony thinks he’s probably seconds away from a complete hyperventilating meltdown.

            Poor kid. First games are never fun. Although Tony does not recommend his own method of dealing with the stress. He makes a mental note to corner Peter after the game and tell him to Just Say No to Drugs as Natasha starts detailing the slight adjustments to their play that she wants now that Barton’s out.

            Tony leans forward, elbows on his knees, to listen. He feels ever so slightly more confident. They can maybe actually do this, he just needs to get Steve Rogers out of his head.

            Which might be easier said than done, Tony realizes fifteen minutes later as he skates out to center ice and catches a glimpse of Rogers just behind Wilson. How, exactly, is it possible to look so damn attractive in almost twenty pounds of hockey gear and a goddamn mouth guard?

            Tony narrows his eyes slightly and turns his attention to Wilson. He needs to focus, and he needs to win this game, it feels like it’s the most important thing Tony will ever do.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

_A weirdly good start to the season for the New York Ultimates. I don’t think I’ve seen them play that good since the first couple of years Tony Stark took over as captain. They were really on top of everything tonight. They took more shots, their defense seemed to always be where they needed to be, and it resulted in some good plays and some good goals. It did help them, of course, that with the Howlers' best shooter out with an injury they had a little less to do on the goal keeping side of things. I don’t want to get too optimistic about this team yet, but it could turn out to be the season we’ve been waiting for from Tony Stark and the Ultimates._

 

            Tony is so elated after the game that he doesn’t really realize what he’s doing as he sends the rest of the team on to the celebrations without him. Rhodey fixes him with a suspicious look, but he can’t possibly know what Tony’s thinking right now. No one in the entire hockey universe could possibly guess what Tony Stark was thinking in that exact moment.

            He waits until the door swings shut behind the last player before heaving his gear bag onto his shoulder and creeping out the door. He looks up and down the hallway, but it’s late enough that it looks like the media contingency has already packed up. Tony picks a direction pretty arbitrarily and walks as silently as possible down the hall until he reaches the door marked ‘Home’.

            He pushes the door open slowly and tries to look in to see if there’s anybody around. It looks empty so he opens it all the way and walks in, dropping his gear bag by the door.

            Steve looks up sharply from where he’s staring at the floor. Tony recognizes the position of a defeated captain well. He feels a little bad for a second, before remembering that Rogers will definitely bounce back from this better than Tony ever could.

            “Stark,” Steve says, looking behind Tony as if to see if anyone else is going to follow him into the locker room. “What… Are you doing here?”

            “I’m pretty sure we’ve reached the point where you can call me by my first name,” Tony drawls with a small smirk. “Don’t you think?”

            “Ah,” Steve says, catching on and looking away. “I’m not really in the mood. Sorry.” He stands up and goes back to removing his gear.

Tony frowns slightly and watches him for a minute.

            “Do you wanna…. Talk?” Tony asks slowly. That is not what he came here for, but he could. He guesses. He knows how Steve feels, anyway.

            Steve shoots Tony a ‘yeah right’ kind of look. “That’s not what you came here for, and I’m pretty sure that doesn’t fall into the realm of whatever this is.”

            “Well you don’t wanna do the other thing,” Tony says defensively. “So I thought I’d offer.”

            “’The other thing’,” Steve says with a huffed out laugh. “So mature of you to use your grown up words and everything.”

            “Well, it seemed a little crass to just walk in here and ask if you wanted to fuck.”

            Steve stops what he’s doing and turns slowly to face Tony. His eyes are getting darker, and there’s a faint trace of pink across his cheeks. Tony cheers slightly on the inside. He’s getting there.

            “So,” Tony says with a grin as he slowly makes his way to where Steve is standing next to the bench. “Since this is an away game and I’m an out of town guest, how about you show me the sights?”

            Steve snorts and pulls off his undershirt. “It’s Brooklyn, Tony, it’s hardly ‘out of town’.” But he doesn’t immediately pull on his other shirt, and Tony counts that as a victory.

            “I had to cross a bridge to get here.” Tony stares at Steve’s bare chest and trails off, totally distracted.

            He follows the trail of soft blond hair down, over the hard lines of Steve's abs, to where it disappears into his shorts. When he looks back up, Steve's face is doing that slightly pinched expression that Tony has come to recognize as exasperation.

            "I'm sorry, what?" Tony asks, blinking.

            Steve sighs like he's he most put upon man in the world. "I said, 'Did you just tune me out so you could ogle at me?'" He folds his arms across his chest in a gesture of modesty, but it brings particular attention to his biceps. Tony notices.

            "I think I got my answer," Steve says, when Tony doesn't reply.

            Tony is busy pulling his t-shirt off over his head, tossing it haphazardly onto the bench, or the floor maybe, so he doesn't see so much as hear the smile creeping into Steve's voice. He moves into Steve's space until he's standing between Steve's knees, just wearing his henley and pants, nudging them a little further apart with his own legs.

            "Tony..." Steve says. His tone is fond though, and his face is only looking a little bit pinched now. His hands fall to his sides and flex, like he wants to touch but doesn't quite know if he's allowed.

            "Steve," Tony cocks his hip and puts one hand on his waist, resting his other on Steve's shoulder. Steve's skin is warm where they touch, on the palm of Tony's hand, hot points of skin grazing skin at his calves. "It's your duty as a host to make sure that I see the sights, get the full experience, you know."

            "Oh, is it now?" Steve asks, dropping all pretense and looking amused. He seems to be in a pretty good mood for a guy who just got his ass handed to him on the ice.

            Tony makes a show of looking around the locker room. "I don't see anyone else here, so yeah, buddy, it falls to you."

            And this is one of Tony's favourite things about Steve, really. People seem to expect him to be all proper, a stickler for rules and order. But Steve just lets this absolutely wicked grin creep across his face, and he's sliding his hands up the backs of Tony's thighs, grabbing a hold of his ass and squeezing.  

            Tony smiles, slides both hands along Steve's neck and down his chest.

            "I think I can handle that," Steve says. He dips his head and presses a kiss to Tony's stomach, and it's hot but it's also tender in a way that makes Tony's insides churn. He doesn't have time to entertain that thought, though, because Steve is standing and turning away, collecting his clothes, tossing his gear into his bag.

            "Wait, what- no, that's the opposite of what I want you to be doing," Tony frowns a little, reaching out to grab Steve by one of those beautiful deltoids and turning him. Steve sighs like he's annoyed but he lets Tony manhandle him, which is an act only possible with his cooperation. Tony isn't a little guy by any means, but Steve is both taller and stronger than him, even without his pads. "I thought we could start here," Tony says, trying to push him back into one of the changing stalls.

            Steve stops and fixes Tony with A Look. Tony isn't exactly sure when they started communicating non-verbally. He doesn't like this Look.

            "Tony, my apartment's not that far from here," Steve says, eyebrows raised.

            Tony runs his hands down Steve's stomach, touch light and fleeting. "I know, but don't you want to re-live the thrill of the game?" He might be goading Steve on a little. He isn't above playing dirty.

            Steve's face goes sour. "I don't want to talk about the game," He says, and all of a sudden it clicks in Tony's head why the captain might have stayed so late when the rest of the team had long gone.

            And because Tony, while being an incredibly smart man, (some might say _genius_ ,) does not like to make good decisions, he pushes.

            "Don't worry, I've got a good cure for post game blues," He says, dropping his voice. He nudges a knee between Steve's legs.

            Steve, bless his soul, gives one last attempt at relocating them. "Tony, we're in the _locker room_ , somebody- anybody could catch us!"

            "You have a point," Tony says, but he's already mouthing wetly along the curve of Steve's collar bone, so it comes out a little muffled against his skin. "But in case you forgot, we're all alone. Everyone else is off celebrating or sulking, in their respective bars of choice. Clearly you've chosen this venue; I just want you to celebrate instead of sulk, is all." It's a pretty sound argument if you ask him.

            When Steve doesn't answer, Tony stops what he's doing and pulls back, holding him at arm's length. "Listen, if you don't wanna do this here, I'll stop. But you gotta tell me now, big guy, before things get ugly."

            Steve takes a step back and chews on his lip, clearly debating with himself. Tony gives him the moment, and for the first time notices just how goddamn _clean_ the room is. Steve probably goes around tidying up after his team or something. He would, wouldn't he? Probably something about how a clean space is a clean mind. So Tony almost misses the moment where Steve nods, mostly to himself, wets his lips, and goes, "Okay. Let's do this."

            What he most definitely does not miss, is the way Steve crowds him into the nearest changing stall, big hands along either side of Tony's jaw, and kisses him desperately.

            At this point, they're no strangers to each other's bodies. Tony is starting to see the parallels between this Steve, who wants so openly, panting against his neck, and the Steve he's become familiar with on the ice. 

            Steve pushes Tony all the way into the changing stall, until the backs of his calves hit the bench and it forces him into an awkward half stance-- and Steve just grabs Tony roughly and hoists him up. He nudges a knee between Tony's, planting it firmly on the bench so that Steve has one foot on the floor, one knee on the bench, and Tony pinned between Steve and the wall, held up by the pressure of Steve's knee against his groin and Steve's strong hands on his thighs. Tony thinks about how effortlessly he's seen Steve knock other players out of his way, watching them topple over their own skates.

            Tony lets his head fall back against the wall, and Steve mouths along his neck, _bites_ when he dips below where he knows Tony's collar will cover it. Tony thinks about the way Steve slices across the ice like the blades are extensions of his legs themselves. Well on his way to developing A Complex, Tony groans and presses into Steve's touch. 

            "Sore loser, huh?" He pushes, because he can't help it, but also because he suspects Steve's kind of into it. 

            "Shut up," Steve says, putting his tongue in Tony's mouth. Steve's still wearing his shorts, and Tony his pants, and the friction Tony gets when he tries to shift his hips down against Steve's knee isn't enough.

            "Look, champ, I need to-" Tony tries to maneuver his hand down between them, but the angle's not quite right and Steve's arms are in the way. So he slides his hand across bulk of Steve's chest, stroking his thumb over Steve's nipple a few times before he grabs it and _pinches._ Steve jerks like he's had the wind knocked out of him.

            " _Shit_ Tony," Steve wheezes, and Tony just smiles sweetly. Or at least he tries for sweet, it probably comes off as smug. 

            "Now that I have your attention," Tony clears his throat, gesturing somewhat obviously to the clothing situation. "I believe it's in our best interest to slip into something a little less... Restricting."

            Steve huffs out a laugh and sets Tony down on the bench, moving to take off his shorts with the ease of someone who gets undressed around others often. Tony already has his pants halfway off when he notices Steve hesitate, and Tony thinks in that brief moment that this is probably the first time they've been fully naked around one another, at least properly, with the lights on and everything. 

            Steve shakes himself, and in the time it takes Tony to get the rest of his clothes off, he's stripped down completely. 

            Tony swallows. "Fuck, you're killin' me here." 

            "I could say the same of you," Steve says, moving into Tony's space again, and Tony stops him with a finger to the chest. 

            "Ah, ah!" Tony chides, turning them around and pushing Steve back into the stall. "You sit. Let me."

            It isn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but they fit on the bench with Steve's back flat against the wall, Tony straddling his lap. 

            "Fucking _finally_ ," Tony says as he grabs a hold of Steve's dick, and Steve laughs, the sound turning into a groan with the slow pull of Tony's hand.

            It's a little rough and dry, but Tony lines up and wraps his hand around the both of them, and Steve just groans again and bites the meat of his shoulder, so he figures he’s doing alright sand keeps going.

            Usually, Tony's a pretty observant dude, it's something he prides himself on. Watching the reflections in the glass to see who's coming up behind him has saved his ass on more than one occasion. So what happens next really catches him off guard, but in his defense, he's more than a little preoccupied.

            Tony is mumbling filthy shit into Steve's ear when he registers the faint clicking sound. He hears is twice more in quick succession and whips his head around, but his back is to the door so he almost misses it. Almost.

            While Steve is holding onto his hips and ass with a grip that is most definitely going to bruise, Tony catches the glimpse of a camera lens and hears a whoosh of fabric and the tap tapping of retreating footsteps. He has a few seconds to register this before Steve is panting, "Fuck, Tony, _fuck_ \- I'm-" and comes all over himself.

            The magnitude of what's just happened almost sinks in, but then Tony says, "Fuck," himself, and jerks off onto Steve's chest.

            He never had much sense of self preservation anyway.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            Tony is not entirely sure how he makes it back to his apartment that night. He’s pretty sure it involved a cab. There was definitely bridge crossing. It doesn’t matter, though. What does matter is that he has now hooked up with Steve Rogers twice, and he is feeling pretty good about that. He’s already planning how he can get it to a solid three when he collapses onto his bed and falls asleep almost immediately.

            His post-game-winning, post-locker-room-hook-ups-with-Steve-Rogers bliss is brought to an abrupt halt far too soon when he’s awoken by a text from Hill the next morning at 7:30. First of all, that is way too early for a morning after a game day, and secondly the message itself brings him back to a startlingly harsh reality.

            The message, which is preceded by five missed calls just says “If you do not answer your damn phone I will put you on so much probation you will never play hockey again.” He rolls his eyes, thinking that’s probably a little bit dramatic. He dials Hill’s number and cradles his phone against his shoulder as he pulls his jeans on.

            “Stark,” Hill says immediately upon answering. “I’m gonna need you to come down to the arena _immediately_. You are in so much shit.”

            Tony freezes. “I… Am?”

            “Unless somebody who looks remarkably like you got caught by the goddamn media hooking up with Steve Rogers in his locker room last night,” Hill says, and Tony feels like somebody dumped a bucket of ice water down his back. Hill must take his silence as confirmation because she just says “Fifteen minutes” and hangs up.

            Tony drops his phone and stares at the wall. Well… Shit.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            Tony makes it to the arena in record time, and in fifteen minutes he is sitting on a bench in the locker room in front of Natasha and Hill, feeling very, very small. The locker room feels very large without the rest of the team in it, and at the same time very small under the heated gazes of Natasha and Hill. He shifts awkwardly on the bench and shifts his eye line to the whiteboard behind the two women, upon which ‘YOU FUCKED UP’ is scrawled in huge red letters.

            He’s pretty sure that’s directed at him. He’s also pretty sure that he doesn’t need the reminder. He clears his throat and raises his hand slightly.

            Natasha raises her eyebrow. “Yes?”

            “So… Um… I… Fucked up?” He gestures vaguely at the white board, and a tiny part of him hopes that maybe it’s left over from somebody else’s dressing down. Maybe Peter got caught with cocaine. Tony never did give him his Just Say No speech.

            “Obviously,” Natasha says. “Since there’s nobody else in the room at the moment.”

            No to the cocaine then. Probably a good thing.

            “And nobody else who’s been stupid enough to get their picture taken canoodling with their rival in a locker room in the past week,” Hill adds with a sharp glare, pulling said scandal causing photo from the file folder in her hand.

            Tony smiles awkwardly and tries not to look too closely at the photo. “Rival sounds so harsh. Can’t we go with… Boy toy?”

            Natasha and Hill make simultaneous faces of disgust.

            “Absolutely not.”

            “Fine,” Tony says with a huff. He decides to take the morally superior route and sits up a bit straighter. “And we were not canoodling. That is a terrible word. We were having sex. Because we are adults, and we are allowed.”

            Hill narrows her eyes at him. “No. You’re not. Because you are captains of the biggest rival teams in the AHL, and also because you are apparently too stupid to not get caught by sports media interns with cameras. Seriously, Tony. This,” she waves the photo in the air. “Cannot happen again.”

            There’s silence in the room for a moment as Tony contemplates this statement. On the one hand, Hill is absolutely right, and he cannot believe that he let this happen. This has career ending possibilities for both of them, and he feels a pang of regret that his stupidity is going to affect Steve so immensely.

            But on the other hand, if he was honest with himself (which he never was), he didn’t really want to end this thing with Steve. He was kind of enjoying it. Way more than he probably should be for the so-called casual nature of the whole thing. But now was probably not the time to think about that. He needed to get into crisis mode and figure out how to deal with the immediate problem at hand. Feelings could come later.

            “How…” Tony pauses and swallows. “How are we dealing with the photo? Do I need to… Make a statement?”

            “Oh, no of course not,” Hill says, tucking the photo back into her folder. “The photo never went public, and it’s not going to.”

            Tony stops for a moment to process that. “I’m sorry, what?”

            “The guy who took the photo was an intern for some mildly popular hockey blog. He was just trying to get hush money or some stupid thing like that,” Natasha says. “We threw the word ‘lawsuit’ at him and he crumpled pretty quickly. He was in a restricted area after hours, after all. Way more trouble than it’s worth. We have the only copy of it now, so it’s not an issue anymore.”

            It takes Tony’s brain a second to catch up. “So then… Why am I here?”

            “We need to talk about your apparent relationship with Steve Rogers,” Hill says, throwing the folder onto the bench next to Tony and leveling him with a look.

            “Look,” Tony says and looks down at his hands. “I know the gay thing is kind of a problem-“

            “It’s not the gay thing,” Natasha interrupts. “That is literally the least of our worries.”

            “It is?”

            “Sure,” Natasha waves her hand. “You Can Play, Pride Tape, the Zimmermann kid, etcetera, whatever. Hockey’s come a long way.”

            Tony frowns. “Then I-“

            “It’s the rivals thing,” Hill says. “People don’t want you and Rogers to make kissy faces and love each other. The fans literally want you to punch him in the face. Maybe knock out a tooth or two.”

            Tony makes a horrified face. “But his teeth are perfect! Do you know how rare that is for any hockey player let alone a _professional_ hockey player?”

            Hill makes a noise in the back of her throat that sounds vaguely threatening and reaches for the white board marker.

            “Tony, I swear to god…”

            Tony at least has the decency to look sheepish. “It’s just that _I_ don’t want to be the one to ruin that for the rest of the world, you know?”

            This time Hill just glares and chucks the marker. It hits Tony right in the middle of his forehead.

            “Ow! Okay! Fine! I’ll trip him or something, god!”

            “No, no,” Natasha pipes up. “Tripping is a penalty. Just jab him with your stick or something.”

            “…Also a penalty,” Tony says with a frown.

            Hill glares at him. “I don’t care what you do to Rogers as long as it isn’t sleep with him. If you get caught in any kind of compromising position with him again I will actually put you on probation, I’m not joking.”

            Tony nods to show he understands.

            “Good,” Hill says, gathering her things. “Now get out of here, I don’t want to look at you anymore.”

            Tony obeys as quickly as he possibly can. He needs to get a hold of Steve. He can only hope that he got off as easily as Tony did with this whole situation.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            Once Tony gets home he starts to contemplate just how exactly he’s going to get a hold of Steve. It’s not like they exchanged numbers. This thing they have, whatever it is, is too casual, and too much in it’s early stages for anything like that. He’s idly flipping through his contacts, trying to figure out who he knows that might also know Steve Rogers when he comes across an entry that he definitely did not put there himself. It’s entered in simply as ‘Steve’ and Tony smirks. Rogers, at least, seemed to be planning for the future.

            He opens the contact and calls the number that’s entered there, crossing his fingers that Steve’s already out of whatever PR hell he was thrown into this morning.

            “’Lo?” Steve sounds exceedingly groggy, his voice rough with sleep. It’s almost like…

            “Did you just wake up?” Tony demands. “Why have you not been lectured for several hours this morning? How did you get out of this?”

            “Tony?” Steve asks. Tony can hear the rustling of sheets in the background, and has to stop himself from picturing a shirtless Steve in bed. “What are you talking about?”

            Tony pauses for a second and thinks. “What’s your address? I’m coming over.”

            “What? But I-“ Steve goes silent on the line and then rattles off his address. “I’m… More than a little confused here, Tony.”

            “I’ll explain everything when I get there,” Tony says, grabbing his keys and running out of his apartment. He hangs up his phone and hails a cab as soon as he hits the street.

            By the time he’s arrived at Steve’s apartment, he’s come up with two reasonable explanations for why Steve doesn’t seem to know about the photo. Maybe his people aren’t as crazy as the people that run Tony’s team, maybe the intern didn’t get a chance to send the Howlers’ people the photo before Hill pounced on him. He’s also come up with six crazy reasons that he’s trying not to focus on, because all they’re doing is stressing him out.

            He buzzes Steve’s apartment number and the door clicks open. He basically runs up the stairs, because of fucking course Steve Rogers lives in a walk up, and Steve is already waiting at his apartment door when Tony makes it there. He steps aside and lets Tony in, shutting the door and bolting it behind him.

            He’s wearing sweats and a thin t-shirt and Tony is momentarily distracted before he remembers what he’s here for, and also that he’s not supposed to ‘canoodle’ with Steve Rogers anymore.

            “We were seen last night,” Tony blurts out quickly. “In the locker room. By some blog intern. He took a picture.”

            Steve frowns as he processes the flow of information. “What? How did he… But why hasn’t anyone contacted me about it?”

            He grabs his phone from where it’s sitting on the counter and flips through it, double checking that he hasn’t missed any calls or texts.

            “I’d really like to know that as well,” Tony says. “I got to spend the first hour of my morning being lectured on improper conduct with a rival, and you, apparently, got to sleep in.”

            Steve is still frowning and staring at his phone. “But… The media. There’s nothing about it online, and no one’s tried to get a hold of me. I don’t get it!”

            Tony stops for a minute and backtracks through the conversation in his head. “Oh! Yeah, Hill and Natasha have already squashed it, and destroyed all the copies and whatever. Sorry. Should have mentioned that first.”

            Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes, Tony, you should have.”

            Tony grins sheepishly and shrugs a little. “Sorry, I’ve already dealt with that crisis, I’ve moved on to the next one already.”

            “The next one?” Steve looks concerned. “There’s something else?”

            “Uh,” Tony starts and looks up at Steve. “Well, Hill said I can’t see you anymore because we’re supposed to be these big rivals and no one is interested in us getting along and uh… ‘Making kissy faces’.”

            Steve looks confused. “But, that’s just hockey. What does that have to do with our private lives?”

            Tony shrugs and looks away. “I guess they don’t want… Whatever this is… To affect how we play against each other. Hill says people want me to punch you in the face.”

            Steve looks a little ticked off now. “That’s not how it works! This isn’t going to affect anything! I mean, I checked you into the boards last night, and we’d already slept together when that happened!”

            “Yeah,” Tony says, looking back at Steve and smiling a little. “Thanks for that, by the way. I have a bruise the size of a fist on my ribs.”

            Steve smiles and shrugs one shoulder. “That’s just the game, Tony.”

            “Well, yeah, sure,” Tony says, smiling back. “So… Wait? You want to keep doing this? Even though we really, really shouldn’t?”

            Steve nods and looks Tony in the eye. “Yeah. I do. Maybe not in a locker room again, or anywhere that anyone could walk in on us, but it’s kind of nice.”

            Tony looks at him quizzically.

            “Not wondering if you’re going to run off to the media the second you leave, I mean,” Steve says quickly.

            “Oh,” Tony says. “Sure. That is nice.”

            “I mean, the other thing is nice, too,” Steve adds with a grin.

            “Oh yeah?” Tony asks, taking a step closer to Steve. “The ‘other thing’?”

            Steve smirks and grabs Tony’s waist, pulling him in close. “You got anywhere to be?”

            “Not even a little.”

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            Steve and Tony keep meeting up whenever they both have the time. It gets harder as they get deeper into the season and they both have to keep leaving for long bouts of away games, but whenever they’re both back in the city they make sure they make time to get together.

            Tony is getting more and more concerned about how much he enjoys spending time with Steve. The sex is great, of course, but Steve is also so genuine, and funny, and nice, and Tony really doesn’t know what to do with these feelings he seems to be developing. He keeps telling himself that it’s working the way things are now, and that they have to keep everything a secret from every one anyway, so turning their casual hook ups into an actual relationship would be a terrible idea, even if Steve wanted to. Which he does not.

            Tony tells himself this last part over and over every time he gets the urge to text Steve a funny picture from the road, or tell him about how proud he is that Peter seems to finally be getting over his rookie fears. They don’t have that kind of relationship. It’s totally physical, just letting off steam to help them play better hockey or something.

            This mantra works really well, right up until it doesn’t.

            It starts off pretty small, Tony misses a shot that he definitely should have made. Not a big deal, they tie anyway, and frankly, the Ultimates are still having a way better season than anyone expected. But then they lose the next game, and while no one is saying it, Tony still knows that it’s definitely his fault. He tripped, he messed up, everything went wrong, they lost.

            And they just keep happening. Tony seems to get worse every time they play, and he withdraws into himself, Rhodey shooting him worried looks after every game, and muttering to Pepper in corners while they both keep glancing in his direction. Tony knows they’re worried that it’s all going to send him into a relapse, that the disappointment of losing and the things the media are saying about him are going to make him crack and go back to his old ways.

            Unfortunately, Tony is all too used to losing.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

_Well, it looks like it’s back to the Ultimates we’re used to. After three straight losses, and with the way they’ve been playing lately it’s hard to imagine them coming back enough to make the playoffs this year. All eyes are on Tony Stark as his playing continues to decline game after game. After such a strong start from all players, and especially Stark, it’s really disappointing to see the team sink so low._

 

            Tony rubs at his eyes and leans further back into his couch. He wishes Steve was in town, he really needs to let off some frustration. He doesn’t get why he can’t seem to play good hockey anymore. Maybe everyone’s right, maybe he is getting too old. Or maybe he did irreparable damage three years ago when he overdosed in a dingy club bathroom after he failed to get the Ultimates the Calder in his second year as captain.

            He shakes his head to clear it. That is not the line of thinking he needs right now. What he needs, is Steve. He glances at the calendar on his phone. Steve’s still got two more away games before he’s back. Five days. Tony’s not sure he’ll be able to make it that long. He hates to think he’s become reliant on their little arrangement, but the fact of the matter is that he misses Steve. More than he probably should. He also kind of wants to talk this whole…. ‘Am I too old for hockey’ thing over with him. He needs a hockey perspective that’s not Rhodey telling him to stop listening to what the media says, or Bruce gently telling him that he needs to figure out what’s what for himself.

            Tony pushes his head back further into the couch and kicks his feet up onto his coffee table. He reaches for his remote and turns on the TV, flipping through the sports channels, trying to find something to distract him.

            “ _-Stark hasn’t played up to his standards since his breakdown three years ago, and everyone kno-_ “

            “ _-there’s no reason for him not to retire, it’s getting ridiculous-_ “

            “ _-NHL prospects look good for Rogers, and even with the less than great playing from the Ultimates lately, Parker is also poised for-_ “

            Tony flicks the TV back off and tosses the remote away. He closes his eyes and is just contemplating whether or not it’s too lame for him to go to bed at 9:30 on a Saturday when his phone starts blaring Thunderstruck. He opens one eye and looks at the screen to see the sheepish grin of Steve Rogers looking back at him. He scrambles to grab the phone and almost drops it as he tries to answer it quickly.

            “Hello?”

            “Hey Tony,” Steve’s voice sounds kind of echoey and there’s a low rumble in the background.

            “Are you… Hiding in the bathroom to call me?” Tony says, grinning slightly.

            He can almost picture Steve’s blush and head duck as he answers. “Uh, yeah. I’m rooming with Bucky and he’d never let me live it down, and it’s supposed to be a secret and… Y’know.”

            Tony smiles wide into the emptiness of his apartment. “Yeah. Yeah, sure. So what’s up Rogers?”

            “I just wanted to see how you were,” Steve says. “I watched your last game, and you seemed kind of off.”

            Tony stiffens slightly. “Well, you know. Bad game, whatever. It happens.”

            “Sure,” Steve agrees quickly. “But if there was something else you’d… Talk to me about it, right?”

            Tony’s heart skips a beat. “I didn’t really think we were the talking type.”

            “We could be,” Steve says quietly. “I just… I’m a little worried, I won’t lie, Tony. I know we’ve never talked about… What happened to you… But if you ever wanted to…”

            Tony is quiet for a long time while he thinks about that. He doesn’t talk about his breakdown and the corresponding overdose with anyone. He talked it over with Rhodey and Pepper when he was in rehab and dealing with the immediate aftermath. But he’s better now, he’s fine, and he doesn’t need more people to worry over him and fret and treat him with kid gloves like they think he’ll snap again at any moment.

            “Tony?” Steve’s voice breaks through his thoughts. “Are you still there?”

            “Yeah,” Tony answers. “Sorry. You don’t need to worry about me, Rogers. I promise I’m just fine. Just had a rough couple of games without you around to help out.”

            Steve is quiet for a moment, but seems to accept the change in subject, and moving past the sensitive subject. “Yeah,” he says finally. “I’m getting a little of that myself. But I’ll be back soon enough.”

            Tony relaxes the tension he didn’t realize he had, and lays back onto the couch again. “Great. So, how’s Pittsburgh? Have you run into Sidney Crosby?”

            Steve laughs, and Tony settles in to try this talking thing, and maybe daydream a little about what it could lead to.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            The Ultimates lose another game, then tie another game after Peter gets a miracle of a shot in. Tony is feeling more and more rough around the edges, and is just so happy when Steve finally texts him ‘Back in town’ that he doesn’t even think, he just gets in a cab and heads straight over.

            Steve buzzes him up and only looks a little surprised to see Tony at his door. He smiles softly and steps back to let him in. Tony uses every ounce of willpower he has not to push Steve against the door and aggressively make out with him the second it closes. Instead, he leans against the counter and crosses his arms in an effort to keep his hands to himself.

            “So, how were your away games? Barnes murder anyone in his sleep?”

            Steve looks confused. “…What?”

            “He just looks the type is all,” Tony says, waving it away. “Seriously, how were they?”

            Steve leans opposite Tony and shrugs. “They were fine. We played well.”

            “But…” Tony coaxes.

            “I just wish I could get Sam and Bucky to stop hating each other!” Steve sighs.

            “Barnes and Wilson?” Tony asks, cocking an eyebrow. “They hate each other? But they seem to play really well together. It’s like… Intuitive for them or something.”

            “I know!” Steve says, sounding exasperated. “That’s what makes it so frustrating! If they could just stop snapping and each other and arguing off the ice, I think we’d be a much more cohesive team. We could really benefit from it!”

            Tony tilts his head a little as he thinks that over. Huh…

            “They’re sleeping together.”

            Steve jerks his head over to look at Tony. “What? Sam and Bucky? No way.”

            “I mean, it’s probably at least a little bit hate sex,” Tony continues. “But it makes sense.”

            Steve looks horrified. “No! It doesn’t!”

            “Sure it does,” Tony says, not seeming to process the disturbed look on Steve’s face. “They know each other really well, physically especially, so they play together really well, but they’re both competitive, and they probably don’t really want people to know, so they play up the bickering and the fighting when they’re around the rest of the team.”

            “Oh god, please stop,” Steve says, sounding slightly strained. “I can’t think about this.”

            Tony laughs a little and moves so stand between Steve’s legs. “Well, I didn’t come over here to talk about Barnes and Wilson, anyway.”

            Steve rolls his eyes, turning his head, but he puts his hands on Tony's hips anyway. Tony figures this is a positive. At least he's still doing alright in the Steve department.

            "Really?" Steve asks, pressing the issue. "You didn't come over here with the express intent of pestering me into submission?" His tone is deadpan but his eyes are betraying him.

            "Okay, see, that's not fair, because you're forcing me to choose between making a joke about pestering, or a joke about submission. Honestly, Steve, who does that? Do you like hurting me?" Tony says, frowning.

            This reaction earns him a quick smack on the ass, and it sends a jolt straight through him.

            "Oh, so you _do_ like it?" Tony asks. He gets a mischievous look from Steve.

            "No, Tony," Steve says, as he slides his hands down to Tony's ass and pulls him closer, into the vee of his legs.

            Tony barely has time to press himself against Steve's groin before Steve is standing up, saying "I'm gonna take a shower."

            Tony groans.

            "If you want," Steve says, as he pushes past Tony towards the bathroom, "You can get started without me. I'll only be like ten minutes."

            Okay, _that_ has Tony's attention. He waves Steve off and heads to the bedroom.

            Flopping down on the bed, Tony tosses his phone on the bedside table digging into the drawer with one hand and producing the pump bottle of lube Steve keeps there. The pump is a lot more convenient than a squirt bottle, but Tony has been trying to convince Steve to let him cannibalize one of those automatic soap dispensers for exactly this purpose. Steve seems to think that's excessive. Tony thinks it's genius and efficient.

            Setting the lube aside, Tony unbuttons his waistband and shimmies out of his underwear and jeans. He keeps his shirt on, if only because it's a little chilly in Steve's exposed brick apartment, and because Steve likes to have something to pull off of him. Whatever, he can always take it off later.

            Tony knows that Steve said ten minutes, but it's likely to stretch into fifteen or twenty; he thinks about how Steve is probably stroking himself, slow, gentle tugs, his hand slick with soap. It gives him plenty to work with.

            Settling back on the bed, Tony gets his fingers lubed up and immediately presses one into himself, just up until the first knuckle. His dick is starting to get interested, and Tony gives it a few dry strokes, letting his eyes slide shut.

            He stops paying attention to the time, and focuses on the push and pull of his finger, fucking it in and out of himself. He tries not to be impatient, because he knows he'll regret it later, so Tony waits until the movement feels easy and then adds another.

            Tony gets all the way up to three fingers, his hand moving faster, before he hears the sound of the shower shutting off, and the click of the bathroom door opening. Tony grins and brings his knees up, putting his feet flat on the bed.

            Steve comes into the bedroom then, a fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist. He's holding onto it to make sure it stays in place, and Tony can see the hard line of his dick through the terry cloth.

            "Hey," Tony says, not at all sounding like he's got three fingers knuckle deep in his ass.

            Steve gets a good look at Tony then, face flushed, shirt pushed up to expose his stomach, and he colours, his breath coming out in a whoosh.

            "Fuck," Steve says, and Tony thinks, _yeah, me too._

            Steve drops his towel and climbs onto the bed in one movement, coming up to kiss Tony. He feels slightly damp, and warm from the shower. Tony is warm for a different reason, and he pulls his fingers out, wiping them on the hem of his tee shirt. Steve sits up and reaches across to the bedside table, grabbing for a condom, and Tony wrangles himself out of his shirt.

            "You were longer than ten minutes," Tony says, as Steve is rolling the condom on.

            "Yeah?" Steve asks. "Were you counting?" He leans over Tony, big hands placed on either side of his shoulders. The heat of his body makes Tony's skin tingle, and he can feel Steve line himself up, not pushing in just yet.

  
            "Admittedly, no," Tony says, running his hands over Steve's pecs and up over his shoulders. He's kind of obsessed with Steve's pecs. He tells him so.

            Steve gives him an appraising look and starts to push in, and Tony takes in a deep, shuddering breath. He's brought back out of the thoughts that have been plaguing him for what feels like months now, and into the easy drag of skin on skin. Steve's eyes are closed and his mouth is slightly open as he rolls his entire body in one smooth movement and pushes into Tony incrementally.

            They've done this a few times now, and Tony finds it easy to lose himself in the sensation. He's not concerned about whether he's too old for the league when Steve is fucking him into the mattress, and he definitely doesn't have time to think about stress management or relapsing when Steve presses him down with his hands on his shoulders and snaps his hips hard enough to bruise.

            Steve bends his head to kiss Tony and it's a rushed, almost feverish movement. Tony grabs onto Steve's shoulders and bites at his lip, tilting his hips as he encourages Steve to start moving faster. He knows that all it takes to egg Steve on is a couple of well chosen words and maybe a good yank to the hair.

            "Steve," Tony pants, and he bends his knees and wraps his calves around Steve's sides. "Come on, fucking _fuck_ me already." Steve laughs, a light sound that kind of makes Tony's head spin, and does as he's told. The truth is there is nothing small about Steve Rogers. This comes as a surprise to exactly nobody, but Tony still feels a bit delirious because Steve fills him up so fucking good, and he can't believe he gets to have this. He groans and kisses Steve, going for his mouth but missing and getting the side of his jaw.

            The bed is starting to get jostled, making a soft _thump, thump, thump_ , sound as the headboard of the bed moves against the wall. It's honestly a bit much, but Tony hasn't had noisy sex like this in a long time and Steve is enjoying himself so Tony just goes with it, moaning. He gets a hand on his own dick, which is hard and leaking against his stomach, and the relief he feels is almost overwhelming. He's really not going to last long.

            "Is that-" Steve pants, his nose tucked into the crook of Tony's neck. "Is that alright?" He's braced himself with one hand next to Tony's head and the other at his hip, and he's fucking Tony at a pace that he probably won't be able to continue for much longer.

            "Yeah," Tony says into the damp hair at Steve's temple. "Come on, give it to me."

            Tony wonders briefly if Steve's neighbours can hear them, and then he wonders if Steve is friends with his neighbours. Of course Steve is friends with his neighbours, who is he kidding? Tony thinks he might owe them an apology casserole after this.

            Steve hits Tony's prostate on the down stroke, and this coupled with the almost breakneck speed that Tony's jacking his dick, and the heavy weight of Steve on top of him proves to be too much, and Tony comes so hard he thinks he might black out for a moment or two.

            "Come on," Tony groans into Steve's ear. "Come on, Steve, you're so close." He's still light headed and delirious from the overstimulation of it all, but Tony catches Steve's mouth in a mean kiss and bites at his lower lip not quite hard enough to draw blood. Steve screws his eyes shut and nearly headbutts Tony as he comes.

            Steve collapses on top of Tony, sweaty, panting. "So much for that shower, hey?" Tony says. He thinks he's hilarious. Steve snorts.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            Tony didn’t mean to fall asleep, and he really didn’t mean to spend the entire night in Steve’s bed. He wakes up the next morning and panics slightly, before remembering that he doesn’t actually have practice until that evening. He stretches slightly and rolls over to see if Steve’s awake yet, but he encounters an empty bed. He frowns slightly and pushes himself up. The room is empty, too, but he thinks he can hear movement in the kitchen.

            He rolls out of bed and grabs his clothes from where they’re folded nicely on a chair. He definitely didn’t do that, Steve must have been awake for quite awhile. He pulls on his pants and shirt and creeps out of the bedroom. He finds Steve in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and staring at his phone as if it might hold the answer to the secrets of the universe.

            “Can’t remember how to make toast?” Tony jokes, gesturing to the loaf of bread that’s sitting open on the counter next to Steve.

            “What?” Steve says, sort of in a daze, still staring at his phone.

            Tony frowns. “Is something wrong? Did something happen?”

            Steve looks up then. “Oh! No, nothing wrong.”

            “Then why do you look a little bit like somebody killed your dog?” Tony asks, standing on the opposite side of the counter to Steve.

            Steve clears his throat and looks back down at his phone. “I… I uh, got an offer. From Boston.”

            Tony’s entire body freezes and his mind races through a hundred different things in a second. “An offer to… Play?”

            “Well, right now it’s just an offer to go up to Boston and meet the team and talk about contracts and salaries and things,” Steve fiddles with his phone. “But… I mean, yeah. I guess.”

            Tony doesn’t really know how to feel about any of this. “Well… Uh… Congratulations, I guess.”

            “Thanks,” Steve says, not making eye contact. “Do… Do you want, um… Breakfast?”

            Tony shakes his head. “No. I have to go. Practice. You know.”

            Steve nods, but doesn’t move any more than that. Tony shoves his phone in his pocket and practically runs out the door without so much as a glance back.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

_The Ultimates made an interesting comeback in their last game. Beating the Toronto Marlies by two points, and putting them in a much better position to qualify for the play offs. Stark played like he had something to prove, and it was easily the best hockey we’ve seen from him in at least two years. If they can keep this up, they might actually turn out to have an okay season._

 

            Tony is amazed, frankly, that they’ve made it this far. He doesn’t think he’s seen the team play this well since he came back from his overdose. He definitely hasn’t played this well since then. Maybe the other guys are taking his cue and skating like they have nothing to lose. Peter in particular seems to have finally gotten over his rookie nerves and is skating and scoring really consistently. Tony would say he was proud, if he ever felt that sort of thing in an out loud sort of way.

            The weirdest thing is that Tony has never been tenser off the ice. He spends any time he’s not on the arena half waiting for and half dreading a text from Steve. He still gets them every once in awhile. They’ve seen each other once or twice since The Morning After, but the meetings had so much tension, and they barely said ten words to each other. Tony is just waiting for the day that he wakes up to a text saying that Steve’s signed with the Bruins and that he’s going to go off and be The Next Big Thing and win like ten Stanley Cups and be everything that Tony should have been but was too stupid to actually attain.

            It’s possible that Tony’s working through some things.

            Anyway, the fact of the matter is that the Ultimates are poised to actually make the play offs for the first time in three years, and instead of everyone freaking the fuck out about it, they seem to be playing better hockey. It’s the weirdest phenomenon, but Tony will take it. Anything to get to the playoffs.

            It seems that for once in his life luck is on his side, because at their next practice Natasha announces that in order to make the play offs all they have to do is beat the fucking IceHogs by three or more points. Which is great because the Hogs are the only team that was ranked lower than the Ultimates at the start of the season. They have an actual, real, honest to goodness chance to make the playoffs.

            Tony looks around at his team and thinks yeah, this is going to be the year. Except that Peter looks like he might vomit from nerves, and Tony makes a mental note to pull him aside and talk to him about how he shouldn’t let the pressure get to him and it’s only his first year and he’s got so much time to prove himself. And then maybe also throw in his Say No to Drugs speech because he keeps forgetting, and it’ll be extra important if they make it to the play offs.

            The Howlers, of course, have been dominating every team they come across and are definitely going to make it into the play offs with absolutely no sweat off their backs. Tony is the tiniest bit gleeful that the Ultimates, at least, managed to beat them this season.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            They do it.

            They actually manage to beat the IceHogs 5-2 thanks to some crafty scoring maneuvers by Peter and Bruce. They have a couple more games before the playoffs officially start, just the lower teams finishing off their seasons and trying to increase their ranking ever so slightly.

            Tony is relieved, and also incredibly worried, because the way things look now they are definitely going to be going up against the Howlers in the first round, which means they’re definitely going to be out in the first round.

            Oh, and also that Tony is going to have to come face to face with Steve Rogers on the ice and, if Hill gets her way, punch him in the mouth. Which Tony kind of wants to do anyway, because Steve is so blatantly not talking about Boston, and it is driving Tony crazy, because at least if he brought it up then they could yell about it or something, instead of just stewing in awkward, tense silences before fucking and leaving.

            Not that there’s been much of that the last week or so. Tony hasn’t heard from Steve, and he’s not really feeling much like reaching out. He thinks maybe it’s best for everyone’s hockey and mental health if this thing, whatever it might have been, ends up fading into nothingness and being forgotten about.

            Tony is thinking about this during the strategy part of their next practice session. Everyone has come to the same conclusion as Tony, and all of their strategy now revolves around taking down the Howlers, and it gets a bit repetitive so Tony tends to fade in and out while Hill and Natasha talk through it.

            “Hey,” Rhodey nudges Tony, and he startles and looks up from his shoes.

            He looks around and notices that everyone seems to be gathering their things and making for the exit.

            “Are we done?” Tony blinks. “It seems early.”

            “It’s right on time,” Rhodey shoots him a look. “You just spent the last twenty minutes totally zoned out and staring at your shoes like they were personally out to get you.”

            Tony laughs shortly and turns to grab his stuff, but Rhodey grabs him lightly around the wrist and turns him back.

            “You okay, Tone? Because you don’t seem okay, and I’m starting to worry.”

            Tony shakes him off and waves his hand. “I am totally and completely fine. You don’t have to keep worrying about me turning up half dead in a public bathroom.”

            Rhodey raises his eyebrow. His expression says ‘I don’t believe you’ better than words ever could.

            Tony sighs and shrugs, relenting. “It’s just playoff stress, you know. And the Howlers and… Everything.”

            Rhodey eyes him for another second before nodding. “I get that, Tony, we’re all a little stressed out about it, especially with Rogers in talks with Boston, he’s going to be playing better than ever.”

            “Where’d you hear that?” Tony asks sharply.

            “Hill just spent the last ten minutes talking about it,” Rhodey responds, giving Tony a suspicious look. “She said they’re going to fly him down in a couple of weeks to talk over details and things.”

            Tony bites his lip and finally turns and gathers his things. “Well whoopee for Rogers, I guess.”

            “Yeah…” Rhodey looks like he wants to say something else, but they’re interrupted by Hill walking over and standing in front of Tony, hands on her hips.

            “Just a reminder, Stark,” she says, eying him up. “That when you meet Rogers on the ice in the playoffs you need to be _particularly_ aggressive.”

            Tony sighs and heaves his bag up onto his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. That shouldn’t be a problem.”

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

_Things were starting to look up for the New York Ultimates following their win over the IceHogs. However it’s starting to look like a return to business as usual for the Ults, as their captain, veteran player Tony Stark, didn’t connect a single pass or make one shot in last night’s game. It could just be nerves, the Ultimates haven’t made the playoffs in years, but I’d speculate that it’s more an evening off to the way things were. Either way, the Ultimates better get it together if they want to stand any kind of chance against the Brooklyn Howlers in the first round._

 

            “Tony.”

            Pepper is waiting for him as he skates off the ice following yet another disaster of a practice. The good news is that they don’t have any more games until they face off against the Howlers in the playoffs. The bad news is Tony doesn’t even seem to be able to _practice_ with any kind of skillset anymore, either.

            He sighs and goes to move past Pepper, who stands in front of him and blocks him, hands on her hips.

            “Tony.”

            He doesn’t try to get around her, because he knows it’s fruitless and he’s not really in the mood to be taken down by a five foot tall PR manager.

            “Yes, dearest?”

            Pepper rolls her eyes and grabs Tony’s arm, leading him over to sit on the empty team bench. He goes easily enough, and she takes a seat next to him, not removing her hand from his arm.

            “I’m worried about you,” she says, squeezing his arm slightly.

            Tony scoffs. “You mean Hill and Natasha are worried about me not getting my act together before the playoffs and they sent you because I’m way more likely to deal with you and your brand of concern than them and their white board messages.”

            Pepper makes a face, but doesn’t make a move to deny it. She shrugs slightly after a minute. “I am worried, too, Tony. Because I’m your friend and that’s what friends do. They worry about each other when one of them suddenly loses the ability to play hockey.”

            Tony tosses her a small grin. “Oh, I don’t think it’s all that sudden. I’ve been slowly losing the ability to play hockey since I started playing hockey.”

            Pepper laughs and pushes his shoulder gently. “Don’t even with that self deprecating bullshit. You’re a _great_ player, if not a little inconsistent.”

            Tony smiles at her, a real genuine smile, and they sit in silence for a second. Pepper leans her head against Tony’s arm and sighs.

            “Are you sure you’re alright? I’ve seen your ups and downs, Tony, but I’ve never really seen anything like this. I don’t know what to think.”

            “I’m fine,” Tony says after a pause. “I mean, I’m going through some stuff, but I’m dealing with it.”

            “Dealing with it like-“

            “Like trying to sort through my brain and be a responsible adult,” Tony answers quickly, cutting her off. “And definitely not like drugs. At all.”

            Pepper huffs out a laugh. “Good. Anything I can help you sort out?”

            “I dunno,” Tony says quietly, looking out over the ice. “What are your thoughts on retirement?”

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            As much as Tony would love it if talking out his issues with a friend actually helped improve his game and his life, that’s not actually how it works, so he keeps trying to sort his brain out, and he keeps being absolutely miserable at hockey. Somehow the media gets wind of the fact that the Ultimates’ practices haven’t been going the way you’d expect from a team in the playoffs. Which just makes Tony’s life more difficult as he tries to avoid anything to do with himself on the TV and the internet.

            Unfortunately for Tony, the best way for him to avoid _that_ particular problem is to spend time with Steve, who he doesn’t really want to see, and who is busy with his own playoff preparation and also in a constant state of being wooed by Boston, anyway.

            Tony would really like to just disappear for awhile, but he’d also really like to win the Calder Cup, as unlikely as that’s looking right now. He’ll disappear as soon as the Ultimates are out of the playoffs. Which is looking like it will be within four games, the way Tony’s luck is playing out.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

_Should Tony Stark retire as Ultimates’ team captain? It’s not like he’s getting any younger, and the Ultimates haven’t made the playoffs since his second year as captain. Now, I’m not saying that that’s all on him, I mean even his one alternate, Rhodes, has been on the team forever. The Ultimates are aging out of the league. Even the addition of top prospect Peter Parker isn’t helping out this team. Even with the vast improvements the team has made this year, it’s not looking like they’ll make it very far. With the way that they’ve been playing, and the fact that they’ll be up against the Howlers in the first round, it certainly doesn’t look promising._

            There’s a knock at the door, but Tony doesn’t bother to look up from where he’s staring into his drink. He closes his eyes and sighs. That would be Pepper, right on time for another ‘just pull yourself out of this you can do it’ pep talk. They’ve become a staple in his life, recently. He just wishes he could still believe them.

            “Come in, Pep, the door’s open.”

            “It’s not Pepper,” Steve’s voice says quietly as he pushes open the door and slides in, closing it softly behind him.

            That gets Tony’s attention, and he looks up sharply. “Steve. You shouldn’t be here. You’re supposed to be-“

            “In Boston, I know,” Steve says, taking a step closer. “Would you believe me if I said I’d finished early?”

            “No,” Tony says, eyes narrowing as he stands. “What did you hear? What are you _doing here_?”

            “Tony, I-“

            “No, Steve, listen to me.” Tony plants himself in front of Steve and uses every ounce of self control he has not to grab on to his shoulders and hold on for dear life. “You can’t throw this away for me. This is one of the biggest chances you’ll get and I need it to not be my fault that you didn’t get it. I need to not be the reason that you become a washed up has-been like me.”

            “I rescheduled,” Steve frowns. “Tony. You’re not a has-been, you’re one of the greatest players I’ve ever known. People respect you. Peter looks at you like you hung the moon.”

            Tony snorts and waves his hand vaguely as he moves to pick up his drink. “I’m the definition of a has-been. I should have moved on from the AHL so many freaking years ago. “ He stares into his glass. “But somehow I don’t even have to be in the big leagues to be a constant disappointment to everyone. Or to have more mental breakdowns than any player in the history of the game.” He glances quickly up at Steve. “It’s probably time for me to just give up and move on. Maybe coach pee wee or something.”

            “You hate kids,” Steven says with a small smile. “You can’t just give up. Who cares if you never made it to NHL? It’s not the be all and end all of the hockey world. You have a solid team who respects you and looks out for you and, frankly, I think you could have done a lot worse for yourself.”

            Tony blinks up at Steve. “But, I could have-“

            “Who cares what you _could have_ been. I care about what you are.” Steve grabs the glass out of Tony’s hand and sets it back on the table before grabbing both of Tony’s hands and pulling him close. “If you want this to be your last season, then that’s fine, but do it because that’s what _you_ want, not because some idiot sportscaster called you old. Go out feeling like you accomplished something, like you did exactly what you came to do. Because you did, Tony, and I wish you could see that.”

            He pulls Tony tighter against him and hugs him. Tony tenses at first, but then relaxes into the embrace. He closes his eyes and rests his head against Steve’s chest.

            “Thanks, Steve.”

            Steve strokes Tony’s hair lightly, and Tony wishes he could stay here forever, and not have to worry about his future, or the playoffs, or anything else currently speeding towards him like a freight train. He braces himself and then steps back, out of Steve’s reach.

            Steve frowns, but respects the space. He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks at Tony. “So, I guess I’ve found myself with a free weekend. Do you wanna hang out?”

            Tony would really, really like nothing more.

            “I think we should stop seeing each other,” Tony says calmly. “I mean, sleeping together, we weren’t ever really seeing each other. In a relationship type way, I mean.”

            Steve is staring at Tony like he’s still processing the flow of words that just came out of his mouth. “Stop… Seeing each other? But, Tony-“

            “I think it’s for the best,” Tony says, cutting him off and turning away, he grabs his drink off the table and downs it. “With you probably going to Boston next year, and me definitely not doing that, and also with the whole rivalry thing, and playing each other in the playoffs. It’ll just make everything too complicated.” He pauses for a moment and then turns back around to face Steve. “And this was just supposed to be fun, right?”

            Steve looks totally shell shocked. Like he hadn’t been expecting this, which Tony knows can’t be true because they would have had to end it when he moved to Boston anyway, so it’s not like it’s come from totally out of the blue.

            “But, Tony, I…” Steve trails off. He looks at Tony with an intense stare. He takes a deep breath and looks right into Tony’s eyes. “I thought we could… Make it official. After the season, maybe. I thought…” He blinks, eyes suddenly shining. “I thought that’s what you would want.”

            Tony’s heart clenches and he forgets how to breathe for a minute. Steve wanted to make it official. Steve wanted to _date_ him and _tell people_ and be an actual, real, honest to god couple. Tony shakes his head and turns his gaze away from Steve’s earnest look.

            “Nah,” he says, trying to throw in every ounce of casualness that he is absolutely not feeling into it. “You’re going to Boston, and I’m not really looking to leave New York. Unless I move to California or something. For a change.”

            He maintains his gaze with his bookshelf so he doesn’t have to look at Steve’s expression. He doesn’t think he could take it, and he _needs_ to do this. For Steve, if not for himself. Steve deserves so much better, and Tony knows he’ll never match up.

            “Fine,” Steve says eventually. Tony can’t really read his tone. He glances over quickly, but Steve’s already turned away, heading for the apartment door. “I’ll see you at the game, then.”

            Tony looks down at the floor and hears the door open and close before he throws himself onto the couch, and let’s himself feel sad.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            It’s finally game day. Game one of the playoffs against the Howlers, and Tony is completely freaking out. He doesn’t want to see Steve, and he doesn’t really want to play hockey, already imagining all the things that are going to be said about the game. He’s moping in the corner of the dressing room, sitting on the bench away from everyone else. Peter looks like he’s going to throw up again, and Bruce already looks like he’s ready to fight someone if they look at him wrong, which seems a little early, that usually comes around in the second period.

            Rhodey is just eyeing Tony concernedly while trying to look like he’s not at all, which has been Rhodey’s constant state for a week. Or really, since he joined the team. Finally, Rhodey moves over and sits next to Tony. Tony acknowledges him with a small nod, before going back to staring at the floor and trying really hard to concentrate on just playing good hockey, and not losing his mind over Steve Rogers.

            “Tony,” Rhodey says quietly, so no one else can hear. “You’ve been out of it for a week now, what’s up, man?”

            Tony shrugs and doesn’t say anything. Just focusing. Trying to focus.

            Rhodey lowers his voice another octave and leans in closer. “Is this about Steve Rogers?”

            Tony does look up at that, but tries not to give anything away on his face. Of course this is absolutely about Steve Rogers, but Rhodey doesn’t need to know exactly _why_ it’s about Steve Rogers.

            “What do you mean? Of course it is, we’re playing him in 30 minutes.”

            Rhodey glances over to the rest of the team, who are fully absorbed in their own things, and no one is paying them any attention.

            “Hill told me,” he says finally. “About the photo and… Everything.”

            Tony pales. “She had no right to-“

            “Of course she didn’t,” Rhodey says, cutting Tony off before he can get into a full rant. “She wanted me to keep an eye on you, make sure you weren’t doing something you weren’t supposed to.”

            Tony shifts uncomfortably.

            “You were, of course,” Rhodey says with a sigh. “But I didn’t tell her that. I’m just worried about you, Tony.”

            Tony glances around the room quickly, and then back to Rhodey. “We broke up. Or… Ended it. We weren’t really together, so it wasn’t really breaking up.”

            Rhodey sighs and rubs a hand across his face. “But you like him, right? In a more serious way?”

            “No, of course not, it was totally casual. Just-“

            Rhodey cuts him off with a look and Tony sighs.

            “Yeah. Maybe. But he’s going to Boston, and I’m totally aged out of the hockey world, and he really doesn’t need me around to drag his name through the mud.”

            Rhodey looks like he has a lot he wants to say, but he just shakes his head and leans away from Tony. “Maybe you should let him decide what he does and doesn’t need.”

            Tony gives Rhodey a confused look and opens his mouth to respond when Natasha calls them over for a pre-game pep talk. Tony just shakes his head and tries to clear it, he has to focus on this game.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            30 minutes later, Tony skates out onto the ice, and he’s so nervous he’s almost shaking. He really doesn’t know if it’s nerves from playing his first playoff game in what feels like a million years, or from seeing Steve live and in the flesh and looking stupidly beautiful in his hockey gear.

            Tony shakes his head again and forces himself to focus on the task at hand, namely, winning the game. He can deal with his messy feelings and his messy head after that.

            The game gets off to a rocky start for the Ultimates. Tony thinks Peter is actually seconds away from vomiting on the ice, so he nudges him as they skate past each other and gives him a nod, hoping that Peter remembers the talk they had about unnecessary pressure and the fact that he’s only nineteen. Halfway through the first period Bruce loses his mind and checks Wilson so hard that he gets a penalty and the Ultimates are left short handed for two minutes.

            So far Tony’s been doing okay with the whole focus on the game and not on Steve Rogers thing. He’s pretty proud of himself, he even made a good breakaway, and a decent shot on the goal. But then, during the Howlers’ power play, Steve knocks Tony into the boards with a little more force than necessary, and they both know it. They make eye contact for a second when the ref blows his whistle, and Tony bites down hard on his mouth guard to prevent himself from snapping out a bitchy comment.

            He circles around Rhodey on his way to the bench and Rhodey gives him a look.

            “I would actually like to punch him in his perfect little mouth,” Tony says quietly, with a glare over to the Howlers’ side.

            “Good,” Rhodey says with a small smirk. “You’ll make Hill happy at least. Make sure to knock out a tooth or two.”

            Tony grins back and skates off the ice, leaving the second line to play.

            They finish the first period tied 1-1, and the Ultimates goal only barely counted because Tony ‘accidentally’ skated into Steve and knocked him into the net immediately after. It was after though, so the refs ended up counting it. Tony thinks that’s probably the only luck they’re going to get tonight, so he should probably play a little cleaner for the rest of the game.

            Instead, what happens is Tony sits and stews about stupid Steve Rogers and his goddamn face and his abusing his hugeness to check poor little Tony into the boards for the entire intermission between periods. By the time he gets back out onto the ice he is not only ready to punch Steve in the face, he’s actually a little bit ready to beat the crap out of him and knock out _all_ of his teeth.

            It’s possible he’s been a little tense lately.

            He rolls out his neck and takes position for the puck drop. He looks up and catches Steve’s eye. Steve has the gall to smirk at him from behind Wilson. Tony narrows his eyes and focuses all of his attention on winning the puck for his team.

            He does, but as he’s skating after it someone slams into his shoulder and he whirls around. He sees Steve two feet from him, looking too damn proud of himself to not be the culprit.

            Tony throws down his stick. “You know what, Rogers? I am so sick of your stupid fucking face.”

            Steve spins on his skates and looks Tony up and down. “That so?”

            Everyone around them has stopped playing to watch, and the refs are already blowing their whistles and trying to figure out what penalty they should be calling, but Tony throws his gloves off anyway and spits out his mouth guard, skating towards Steve, grabbing him by the collar of his jersey and pulling him down to Tony’s height.

            “I hate you so fucking much right now,” Tony gets out, grabbing at Steve’s neck instead.

            “I’ve been pissed at you for _weeks_ ,” Steve shoots back, dropping his own gloves and mouth guard and grabbing at Tony’s arms.

            Tony can see Rhodey out of the corner of his eye move like he wants to come break them up, but he seems to think better of it, and stays where he is.

            Tony looks back to Steve and narrows his eyes, pulling him down farther. “You absolute _fucker_ -“

            And then he’s not only grabbing at Steve he’s also kissing him. He pulls Steve’s head down so their mouths meet and at first it’s not so much a kiss as it is just teeth clacking together and lips moving aggressively, but then Steve seems to figure out what’s happening and pulls Tony closer, adjusting the angle.

            It’s still incredibly rough, and it takes everyone else on the ice a moment to figure out what exactly is happening. Rhodey takes one look at his best friend kissing his supposed rival in the middle of the ice and just buries his face in his hands. He should have known it would come to this.

            Off the ice, Hill is losing her entire mind up in the spectator booth. Everyone else who is sitting up there is pretty sure if there wasn’t glass in place she would already be on the ice and throttling Tony.

            The ref and the linesmen take a minute to process, and then move to break it up, though none of them really seem sure how exactly to go about it.

            Tony feels a tug on his shoulder and he comes back to reality very quickly and disengages. He takes a step back, then remembers he’s on skates and almost eats it. One of the linesmen grabs him and steadies him, and then keeps hold, almost as if he’s not sure that Tony’s not going to launch himself back at Steve for round two.

            Steve, for his part, is standing on his own, but has the most horrified expression on his face, as if he is slowly going through all of the repercussions making out with Tony in the middle of a game has. Tony realizes he should probably be doing something similar, and he shoots a look towards the bench at Natasha, who is standing with her arms crossed and a neutral expression on her face.

            Tony is suddenly very terrified.

            He swallows and looks back at Steve, who seems to have calmed down slightly and is watching the ref closely. The ref, for his part, really doesn’t seem to know what to do.

            “Uh,” he says finally. He clears his throat and starts talking a little louder. “We’re just going to… Take a minute and just… Figure this out. Players, if you could leave the ice please.”

            Rhodey skates up beside Tony and hands him his gloves, pushing him gently towards the bench. Tony goes, and sits down gratefully. He shoots a look at the Howlers’ bench and sees that Steve is apparently being chirped by Barnes, who is grinning so wide you’d think he’d just won the lottery.

            “So… Not so much with the knocking his teeth out, then?” Rhodey says, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

            “I meant to punch him,” Tony mumbles, burying his face in his hands. “I swear! Then he was just… There and he was… Steve.”

            Rhodey sighs and shakes his head, looking towards the stands of the arena, where spectators are chatting and yelling and typing furiously on their phones. “You picked probably the worst time in the history of _ever_ to choose to have this breakthrough. You know that right?”

            Tony just makes an indistinguishable noise into his hands and leaves his face there. Rhodey pats him on the back and keeps shaking his head.

            A few minutes later Tony finally unburies his face. He looks over to where the ref is talking with Natasha and Coulson. He sighs dramatically and turns to Rhodey, a look of total exhaustion on his face.

            “They’re going to kick me out of the league, aren’t they?”

            Rhodey shrugs and doesn’t look at Tony. “I certainly would.”

            Tony makes a small wailing noise in the back of his throat and then sits up super straight. “What if they kick Steve out, too? He can’t get kicked out! He’s got an offer from Boston! Oh my god! What is Boston takes their offer back because of this? What if they don’t-“

            Rhodey cuts Tony off by pressing his hand against his mouth. “Stop.”

            Tony deflates slightly.

            “Good,” Rhodey says, removing his hand. “They’re not going to kick you out of the league.”

            Tony opens his mouth to argue, but Rhodey shoots him a look and he stays quiet.

            “They might pull you out of the game though. I’m not sure if that actually counts as fighting, but if it does you two are definitely out.”

            “It’s not fighting,” Natasha’s voice comes from behind them.

            Tony jumps out of his seat and faces Natasha. “I’m so sorry I know I wasn’t supposed to keep seeing Steve and I-“

            Natasha holds up a hand. “I am going to deal with _all of that_ later.”

            Tony nods sadly.

            “For now,” Natasha continues. “The refs are giving you and Steve each a Delay of Game and a Roughing penalty for a total of seven minutes in the box.”

            Tony nods again and opens his mouth, thinks better of it and closes it, nodding one more time.

            Natasha stares at him expectantly. “Well? Get into the damn penalty box we have hockey to play and you are not helping.”

            Tony turns quickly and skates across the ice quickly. He steps into the penalty box and drops to his seat, glancing over to the box opposite him where Steve is already sitting. Steve catches his eye and gives him the smallest of smiles. Tony returns it with a probably too big grin and looks back out onto the ice.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            By some actual miracle the Ultimates manage to win the game. The second and third periods are easily the best hockey played by almost everyone on the ice. It doesn’t really feel like the tense rivalry games both teams are used to playing against each other, Tony would almost dare to call it fun. It’s certainly the most fun he’s had playing hockey in a long time.

            When the game is done, and the Ultimates have won 3-2, the two teams line up to shake hands, Tony and Steve on the ends of each. They grasp hands and look at each other, but neither of them says anything. Tony’s pretty sure that because of the kiss they’ve both had enough of bad timing, bad venues, and bad decisions to last them an entire career. But there’s an understanding in the handshake, that they’re definitely going to talk later, and that this is definitely not over.

            They nod at each other, and Steve smiles, and then they skate off to their own dressing rooms. Tony grins to himself as Rhodey claps him on the back. They just won the first game of the playoffs, and he didn’t get kicked out of hockey forever for fighting/making out with the captain of the opposing team, and he might get to do a lot more making out with said captain in the future.

            And okay, yeah, he may have accidentally just come out in the middle of a very important game, and he may have also accidentally outed Steve, who is in a pretty important place career wise and this _might_ have just messed that up for him, but Tony is trying to focus on the positives here.

            Not one spectator in the entire arena threw anything at either of them, or yelled anything derogatory at them. And that Tony is counting as a win for both him and Steve, and also the entire world of hockey.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            The morning after the game Tony is once again sitting alone in the Ultimates’ dressing room, staring at Hill and Natasha in front of a whiteboard, which this time simply says ‘YOU ARE AN IDIOT’ in red. Tony shifts slightly on the bench and folds his hands in his lap. Natasha and Hill have been staring at him for five minutes in total silence now. He would really like to break the silence. He’s still not one hundred percent sure that he is, in fact, in trouble.

            He’s pretty sure he’s in trouble. But he doesn’t _know_ yet. And he’d really like that mystery to come to an end.

            He coughs quietly and Hill narrows her eyes at him.

            “Stark,” she starts, startling Tony slightly. “Do you know why you’re here?”

            Tony looks up at her and blinks. “Because I… Kissed Steve? Again?”

            “Because you kissed Steve _fucking_ Rogers in the middle of a goddamn game when all I wanted was for you to punch him in the face.”

            Tony shrinks back slightly. “Um… Sorry?”

            Hill pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs deeply. “You are giving me an ulcer, Stark, and I am too young for that.”

            Tony grins and shrugs. “It could be worse?”

            “Could it?” Hill asks, dropping her hand and turning back to Tony. “Could it _really_?”

            “Well,” Natasha pipes up, contributing for the first time. “He could have ended up back in rehab.”

            Hill looks between Natasha and Tony and then sighs again. “Okay. Fine. Very true.”

            “So…. Am I still in trouble?” Tony asks quickly.

            “Of course you’re still in trouble, you idiot,” Natasha says, rolling her eyes. “Do you know how much work you’ve made for Pepper?”

            Tony does actually feel bad about that. He genuinely likes Pepper, and he has spent too much of his time on the Ultimates making her work a lot harder than any other PR manager in the AHL. He should probably work on that.

            “The good news,” Natasha continues. “Is that the media vibe on this whole situation is pretty positive. Hockey really has come a long way, and more news outlets are focusing on the rival aspect than the gay aspect. Except Fox Sports.”

            “But fuck them,” Hill adds. “They’re only like fifty percent real news.”

            Tony feels a tension he didn’t know he was holding let go. He relaxes his shoulders and lets out a big breath. He’ll be fine. More importantly, Steve and Steve’s entire career will be fine.

            “So, what do I… Do?”

            “You’re going to make a statement,” Hill says. “Pepper’s writing it now. Maybe answer a few press questions. Nothing too personal, nothing about the relationship or lack thereof.”

            “We’re in contact with the Howlers people to see if we can coordinate something for you and Steve to do together,” Natasha adds.

            “Oh,” Tony says. He sits for a second and processes all of that. “There might be… A teeny tiny little problem.”

            Hill looks like she wants to throttle Tony, so he rushes on.

            “We broke up!” he says quickly, then pauses. “Well. I mean. We weren’t really dating. We’re fighting?” He pauses again. “We’re not speaking, anyway.”

            “Of fucking course you’re not,” Hill says. She points at Tony in what is actually a very threatening manner. “Call him, and sort out your shit because we are turning this into a god damn fluff piece if it _kills us_.”

            “Yes ma’am,” Tony says, grabbing his phone and making his way out of the locker room. “Thanks for not, um, throwing anything at me.” He opens the door and slides out of it just as a whiteboard marker hits the wall where he had been standing.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            Tony waits until he’s exited the arena, standing just outside a service door in a totally deserted back alley before he manages to open Steve’s contact page. He taps the call button before he can think better of it and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and holding the phone up to his ear.

            He half expects Steve to ignore him and not pick up. Tony thinks that’s probably what he would do, if the situations were reversed. But then, he’s always been a pretty petty person. But what if The Incident caused Steve to lose his deal with the Bruins? Whatever the deal was. What if Steve has spent all morning fielding calls from agents and managers telling him that he fucked up and that he’ll never play in the NHL now?

            “Hello?”

            Steve doesn’t sound angry. He doesn’t sound like he’s spent all morning fighting for his chance and his career, either.

            “Steve,” Tony breathes out. “Hi. Sorry to bother you-“

            “No,” Steve cuts in quickly. “Not at all. Don’t worry about it. I just finished getting a rather stern talking to about how there’s a time and a place.”

            “Ah yes,” Tony says, a little bit of hope blossoming somewhere in his chest. “I am familiar with that talk.”

            “You got one, too?” Steve asks, huffing out a little laugh.

            “I think mine probably had more swearing and throwing stuff than yours,” Tony says, grinning slightly.

            Steve laughs outright at that. “I bet you it did not.”

            Tony smiles and ducks his head, kicking at a rock on the ground. “Did your, uh, ‘stern talking to’ involve anything about, um… Talking to me?”

            Steve is quiet for a moment. “As a matter of fact it did. Something about ‘sorting our shit out’.”

            Tony laughs quietly. “Wow, Hill and Fury really are friends, aren’t they? That’s exactly what she said. And then she threw a marker at me.”

            “It was Coulson, actually,” Steve says, and Tony thinks he can hear the accompanying grin in Steve’s tone.

            There’s a brief moment of silence as they both try to figure out how exactly to broach the subject and start to ‘sort their shit out’.

            “So,” Tony says, finally, unable to bear the silence anymore. “Your place?”

            “Sure,” Steve agrees quickly. “See you in an hour.”

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            The ride over to Brooklyn is the longest of Tony’s life. He has no idea how this is going to go. Maybe Steve just wants to part amicably, do an interview laughing about getting caught up in the moment, and move on to his new fabulous life in Boston.

            On the other hand, maybe Steve wants to really talk things out, see if they can make any part of whatever they were before work. Or start something totally new. Something serious that involves feelings and talking and Tony following Steve to Boston and being really, very official.

            At this point Tony doesn’t know which of the options he’d rather have. He kind of wants to hide out in Steve’s apartment and maybe sleep for a week, and hope than when he wakes up all the really hard decisions have been made for him, and all he has to do it show up and execute. He thinks that’s probably what he has all the managers and PR people and coaches and stuff for.

            What he really, _really_ wants, though, is Steve. In whatever way he can possibly have him. He’ll take just being friends if that’s what Steve wants, what’s best for Steve. But he also kind of likes that following Steve to Boston option. That feels… Good. Right.

            He shakes his head to clear it as the cab pulls up in front of Steve’s building. Tony pays the driver and gets out, looking at the front door and the buzzer and internally freaking out. This is it. He has to figure his shit out right now. But he thinks he knows what he wants, he thinks he’s probably known for quite a while, and just didn’t want to admit it to himself.

            He takes a deep breath and buzzes Steve’s apartment. There’s no response, but the door clicks open. He goes inside and up the stairs, and Steve is waiting at his door, just like the first time Tony was here, what feels like years ago.

            “Hi,” Steve smiles, stepping back and letting Tony in, and it’s so genuine that Tony relaxes a fraction. This is Steve. This is going to be fine.

            Steve closes the door behind Tony and gestures to the kitchen counter where there are two mugs steaming away. Tony takes a perch on one of the bar stools there, and picks up one of the mugs. Steve picks up the other and stands across from Tony. There’s a couple of awkward moments where neither of them says anything, probably don’t know what exactly to say.

            “I think we should date,” Tony says suddenly, putting his mug down abruptly and looking directly into Steve’s eyes. “Like for real. With feelings.”

            Steve looks at Tony and his expression doesn’t change. He sets his mug down too and frowns slightly at Tony. He leans forward a little bit.

            “Are you sure that’s what _you_ want?” he asks, eyes searching Tony’s. “Not just what you think would make this whole thing easier for everyone?”

            Tony scoffs and waves his hand, playing himself as way more casual than he feels inside. Inside he feels a little bit like vomiting. “When have I ever cared about making anything easy on anyone?”

            Steve’s frown deepens and he takes a small step back. “Tony, I just…” He takes a deep breath. “I just really want you to think this whole thing out before you… Make any decisions.”

            Tony drops his hand, and the casual façade. He wraps his hands around his mug and looks down at the counter. “I have thought about it. I’ve done nothing but think about it. It’s definitely what I want.” He looks up at Steve and then away again quickly. “If it’s what you want.”

            Steve’s around the counter and grabbing Tony’s shoulders so quickly that Tony almost misses him moving at all. Steve squeezes his shoulders and Tony looks up at him, still seated on the stool with Steve standing tall over him.

            “Of course it’s what I want,” Steve says quietly, sliding one of his hands up to stroke at Tony’s neck. “It’s what I’ve wanted for _months_.”

            “Months?” Tony asks, surprised, leaning back. “How many months?”

            “Since…” Steve blushes and looks away. Tony nudges him with his foot and he turns back. “Since I phoned you from that bathroom in Pittsburgh.”

            “Bathroom in- Oh,” Tony catches on and his mouth forms an ‘O’ as he processes that information. “That was… That was months ago.”

            “Yeah, “ Steve says, sheepishly. “You were so gung ho about the casual thing, and then the thing with Boston happened and I figured it was for the best, but then-“

            “Then I attacked you on the ice with my mouth,” Tony says, still processing the fact that Steve has had feelings for at least as long as Tony had. That Steve might also think they should date for real.

            Steve chuckles, and runs a hand around the back of Tony’s head, cupping it and petting at the hair there. “If that’s what you want to call it, yeah.”

            “It was supposed to be a punch,” Tony says, finally coming back to the present. “I wanted to knock your teeth out so bad after that check.”

            Steve starts to look upset, and opens his mouth like he’s going to apologize or something but Tony cuts him off.

            “No, it’s fine we were both… Working through some stuff,” he says quickly.

            “Well, your way of working through stuff had way less potential for causing bodily harm,” Steve says, smirking slightly.

            “And way more potential for ruining a couple of careers,” Tony says, looking down and kicking his foot into the counter.

            “Oh, hey, Tony, no,” Steve says, moving ever so slightly closer and using the hand he still has on Tony’s head to make him look up. “Boston’s already called. They said it’s not even a little bit of an issue.” He grins wide and rolls his eyes a little. “As long as I promise not to make out with, like, Carey Price when I score against him or something.”

            Tony laughs a little and smiles at Steve. “I don’t know how I’d feel about that.”

            “I told them it wouldn’t be an issue, so long as my boyfriend could come to games.”

            Tony’s eyes widen. “You… Said… What?”

            Steve shrugged with a smile, taking a step back and looking towards the window. “I was kinda optimistic about this talk going my way.” He looks back at Tony. “So… Will it be an issue?”

            Tony doesn’t use his words so much as he just launches himself at Steve.

He grabs the strings on Steve's hoodie and pulls him closer, grabbing Steve's jaw with his other hand and kissing him quickly. Steve laughs a little against Tony's mouth and laces his fingers together in the small of Tony's back. He kisses his way into Steve's mouth, and he thinks that’s probably answer enough.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            Over the next couple of weeks Steve and Tony both make their statements to the press, they do a couple of interviews together where they hint at something happening, but nobody asks outright, and they’re both very okay with keeping things to themselves for now. The people who matter know, and they are, after all, still playing each other in the play offs.

            Whatever people thought might happen when the two captains of rival teams start dating and have to play each other, they probably didn’t expect both teams to up their game and play better and more aggressively than ever before.

            The round ends up going to a game seven, and Tony is practically vibrating with how much he wants to win. He feels a little bad about how much he wants to beat Steve, but he also knows this is his last chance and he can practically taste it. He had finally decided that it was time to retire. When he told Hill and Natasha and Pepper, and the rest of the team he had almost chickened out, but he knows it’s time. He’s had a pretty good run.

            But nothing would make that run better than finishing it off with the Calder. He wants it so bad he’s bouncing around the locker room before game seven. He just can’t sit still. It’s going to happen. He can _feel_ it.

            “Tony,” Rhodey says finally, an edge to his voice. “I’m so glad you’re back to your old self, and that you’re excited about hockey again, but _if you do not sit down you will not live to play this game_.”

            Tony sits down immediately next to Bruce. Bruce pats him on the leg and goes back to his phone. Peter sits down on the other side of Tony and his leg immediately starts twitching.

            Tony frowns. “You okay, kid?”

            “Sure,” Peter says, so fast. “It’s just- If we win this game we still have three more rounds before we actually win the cup, and each one could go to game seven which means we still might have to play twenty-one more games and-“

            “Oh my god stop,” Tony says. “Please don’t try to math the playoffs.”

            Peter swallows and starts twitching his other leg. “We just have so much further to go to _win_.”

            Tony squeezes his shoulder. “Yeah,” he agrees. “But I’m pretty sure we can do it.”

            Everyone in the locker room takes a second to process this, then they all look around at each other and grin.

            “Okay,” Tony says, jumping up. “Let’s do this.”

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            They do it. They actually win.

            As soon as the buzzer sounds Tony drops his stick and crashes into Rhodey, at some point Peter and Bruce and the rest of the team joins them and they all kind of fall onto the ice together. Eventually, the Ultimates get it together enough to form a line for the handshakes, but they can’t stop grinning and nudging each other.

            When Tony makes it to Steve he grins.

            Steve smiles back, wide and genuine. “Congratulations,” he says, shaking Tony’s hand.

            “Thanks,” Tony says, shoving at Steve a little. “Guess you need to play better hockey.”

            Steve laughs and moves on to the next person in line.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            A week later Tony is lying with his head on Steve’s lap on Steve’s couch, watching something terrible on the television. Steve is carding his fingers slowly through Tony’s hair, and Tony’s eyes are closed, half asleep. They’re up 2-1 in the series against Chicago, but they’re not going down without a fight, and Tony is exhausted. He flies out to Chicago tomorrow for their next away game, and he’s trying to get his Steve time in now. By the time this series ends, Steve will be in Boston, officially a player on the Bruins, bonding with his team and starting his conditioning training.

            “I think I’m going to announce my retirement after this series,” Tony mumbles without opening his eyes.

            Steve’s hand falters for a second, then continues on its way.

            “Do you think that’s the best time?” It sounds like Steve’s frowning. “Shouldn’t you wait until you’re out? Win or lose?”

            “No,” Tony says, shifting onto his back and opening his eyes to look up at Steve. “I want people to know what I’m doing this for me, not because we lost again, or because we finally won. Just because it’s the right time for _me_.”

            Steve smiles down at him. “Good, then. I’m proud of you.” He leans down and kisses Tony gently.

            Tony closes his eyes again and sighs. “I wonder if we’ll play Providence or Albany next,” he mumbles, already halfway back to sleep.

            “Hopefully Providence,” Steve says quietly. “Then I can come cheer you on.”

            Tony smiles and falls completely to sleep.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

_Tony Stark announced his retirement at a press conference this afternoon. While it doesn’t come as a total surprise, many people have expressed disbelief and confusion that he would pick now, when he finally seems to be coming out of his rut and is well on his way to leading the New York Ultimates to their first Calder Cup since he joined the team. Many speculate that after years at the bottom, Stark simply wants to go out on top. Whatever his reasons are, expect to see some good playing from him and everyone else on the Ultimates as they go into the eastern finals against Providence._

 

            “Years at the bottom,” Tony scoffs, turning off the television. He shifts the phone to his other ear and leans into his shoulder to keep it there. “We spent like three years at the bottom. Just three.”

            “It’s okay, Tony,” Steve says over the phone. “It doesn’t matter what they say or think. What matters is that you’re doing what you want to, remember?”

            “Yeah,” Tony grumbles. “We better win the Calder. I want all of these stupid news people to eat it, and have to admit that I’m good at hockey.”

            “You are good at hockey,” Steve sighs, and Tony hears the TV in the background click off. “You were always good at hockey, you just had… An incident.”

            “An overdose,” Tony corrects cheerfully. They’ve talked about it, in the weeks since they got together officially. Tony breaking down how the pressure and the loss and expectations all just got to him and he dealt with it in the only way he could think of at the time. They’ve also talked about his recovery, and rehab, and Pepper and Rhodey finally getting him to pull out of it and be himself again.

            “Yes,” Steve says shortly. “An overdose. But that’s not the point, the point is that it didn’t let it stop you. You’re such an inspiration, Tony.”

            Tony feels a lump in his throat and he swallows around it. “Stop being so sentimental, Rogers.”

            “Sorry, Stark,” Steve says cheekily. Then, quieter. “I just hope you know how proud of you I am.”

            “I do,” Tony clears his throat. “So, are you going to come watch us destroy Providence next week?”

            “Of course!” Steve says, suddenly excited. “I think Chara might come too. He’s watched a couple of your games and he is _fascinated_ by Bruce.”

            “A lot of people are fascinated by Bruce,” Tony says proudly, settling back. “He’s an enigma.”

            Steve laughs and Tony closes his eyes, leaning his head back. He misses Steve a lot, wishes he could have been here today, but the prospect of Steve being in the stands for all of their away games in the next series makes his heart swoop. Between the home crowd at their games in New York, and Steve cheering him on in Providence, Tony wouldn’t be surprised if they took the eastern conference in a good, clean sweep.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            Peter approaches Tony in the locker room before their first game against Providence. It’s a home game, but Steve promised he would watch as soon as he got home from conditioning training. Tony’s lacing up his skates when Peter sits right next to him. Tony glances over at him, but Peter’s staring straight ahead at the opposite wall, so Tony goes back to getting ready.

            Peter shifts slightly on the bench and coughs quietly, like he’s getting ready to say something. Tony turns to him again, and Peter’s looking at him this time, but he’s still strangely silent.

            “Do you need something, kid?” Tony asks. “Another Say No to Drugs speech? Because I really only have the one.”

            Peter blinks rapidly at him. “No! No I’m doing real good on that front, thanks Tony.”

            Tony laughs at the bewildered look on Peter’s face. “It was a joke. What’s really up?”

            “The Canucks want me to play for them,” Peter blurts out quickly and suddenly.

            Tony is taken aback for a second as he processes. “What, like next season?”

            “No,” Peter says, taking a breath and calming down, sorting through his thoughts. “They approached me, and said that if I had another season like this one then they’d be real interested in having me on the team.”

            Tony thinks he could probably be really bitter about this, Peter getting all the chances Tony was supposed to have when he was just a rookie. Steve, too, for that matter. He thinks it shows a lot about how far he’s come that the only thing he really feels in that moment is pride. He is honestly just really proud of Peter, he’s come so far in his playing, and he hardly ever even shows his nerves before games anymore.

            “That’s great, Peter,” Tony says honestly. “Really great.” He smiles and Peter smiles back.

            “Thanks, Tony.”

            “Was… Was that all?” Tony thinks it’s a bit strange for Peter have been so worked up just to tell him that. It’s a big deal, but… Not to Tony, really.

            “No,” Peter responds. He looks down at his hands and then back at Tony. “I just… Wanted your opinion. On whether I should take the offer. If, if it even becomes an official offer.”

            Tony is floored. “You… Want advice? From me?”

            “Well, yeah,” Peter frowns. “I know you didn’t exactly… Go through this yourself, but you’ve been around, and you know the game and the ins and outs of it better than anyone.”

            Tony is so touched he feels like he might cry. He thinks if they didn’t have a game, like, right away he would cry. He’s never really thought of himself at the mentor type. Sure, he captains just fine, but no one’s ever come to him for advice like this before.

            “I think you should,” he says, smiling gently at Peter. “The Canucks are a strong team, and a good organization. They’re all really good guys over there, I think you’ll fit in with them.”

            Peter grins at him, really wide. “Thanks, Tony! Really! Thanks _so_ much!”

            Tony smiles back at him as he makes his way back to his locker to finish getting ready. Tony reaches into his bag, sitting next to him, and pulls out his phone, opening his messages with Steve.

            _I’ve never been a mentor before, but I think I’m pretty great at it._

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

_Today the New York Ultimates beat the Providence Bruins in game four to advance to the final round of the playoffs for the Calder Cup. They’ll be going up against the Texas Stars in what is sure to be one of the most exciting finals the American Hockey League has seen in awhile. With Ultimates captain Tony Stark gearing up for retirement, I have no doubt that he’ll be giving it everything he has and then some to secure this victory for his team._

 

            Tony really likes Steve’s new Boston apartment. There’s big windows, and everything is so open and airy, and also the bed is _huge_. Tony stretches out as far as he can and his hand bumps against Steve’s chin. Steve makes a sleepy disgruntled face at him and pushes his arm away, rolling closer to Tony and wrapping an arm around his waist. He pulls Tony in and nuzzles into his neck.

            “Good morning,” he mumbles into Tony’s throat. “What time do you have to leave?”

            “Not ‘til this afternoon,” Tony answers with a grin, bringing his hand up and petting Steve’s hair. He loves sleepy Steve, all soft and not quite coherent.

            “Mm, good,” Steve reaches up and grabs Tony’s hand, planting a light kiss on the palm. “Have I told you I’m proud of you?”

            “Only a thousand times,” Tony scoffs, rolling his eyes. He scooches himself down so he and Steve are at eye level. “Could stand to hear it one more time though.”

            “Tony,” Steve says, totally serious, stroking Tony’s shoulder. “I am _so_ proud of you. Really. Even if you don’t win the Calder, you’ve made it _so_ far-“

            Tony cuts Steve off with a scowl. “Excuse you, we are going to win the Calder.”

            Steve smiles wide. “Of course you are, you guys are playing so well.” He kisses Tony softly. When he pulls back there’s a small frown playing on his features. “I just wish I could come and watch some of your games.”

            “Yeah, me too,” Tony sighs, burrowing into the pillow. “You’re like a lucky charm. We wiped the floor with Providence whenever you were watching.”

            Steve chuckles lightly. “You wiped the floor with them even when I wasn’t. You _destroyed_ them. It was kind of embarrassing for them, I think.”

            Tony grins and then rolls onto his back, throwing an arm over eyes and letting out a breath. Steve closes his eyes and relaxes into the sheets and pillows and blankets. It’s quiet for a moment.

            “Steve?”

            “Mmhmm?” Half asleep again.

            “I _really_ want it.”

            Steve opens his eyes and pushes himself up on one arm so he can look Tony directly in the eye.

            “Tony. You’re going to do it. I just _know_ it.”

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            “I hate Texas,” Tony says, squinting into the sun from behind his sunglasses. “Who even wants to live in this desert wasteland of a state?”

            “A lot of people,” Rhodey says from beside him. “And you’re offending all of them right now.”

            Tony scoffs and waves his hand in Rhodey’s direction. “Lies. No one can hear me, and even if they could they probably know deep down that their state is terrible anyway.”

            Rhodey rubs at the bridge of his nose. “You are literally about to do a press conference _in Texas_ and I’m not entirely sure that you’re not just going to keep on this tangent when you get up there.”

            The Ultimates are two games in to the finals against the Texas Stars. They’ve won one and lost one, and it’s really shaping up to be a good series. It’s probably going to end up going to seven games. Tony would be freaking out on the inside if he wasn’t so good at keeping his cool.

            He’s definitely freaking out on the inside. It’s definitely starting to show on the outside.

            “Who has press conferences outside, anyway?” Tony continues. “It’s _hockey season_ the weather shouldn’t be nice enough to have outdoor press conferences.”

            “Well, as you so kindly pointed out, it’s a desert, so they have pretty nice weather year round,” Rhodey sighs and crosses his arms.

            “Then they don’t _deserve_ to have a hockey team,” Tony glares.

            “That’s right,” Pepper says, suddenly bustling by, clipboard in hand. “Get it all out now because if you get up there and insult this state I will have you murdered.” She pats Tony’s shoulder, grins at Rhodey, and then continues on her way.

            Rhodey blinks after her.

            Tony just sighs and looks up at the sky. “It’s too fucking hot to play hockey.”

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

            The series does end up going to a game seven. Tony’s internal freak outs come right out to the forefront and he ends up freaking out so much that he, in turn, freaks Peter out. Since Peter spends a lot of his time on edge anyway, this accomplishes absolutely nothing except annoying everyone who has to spend any time at all in the dressing room with either or both of them.

            Thankfully, game seven ends up being in New York. This calms Tony down marginally because they always play better in front of a home crowd. Except for when they don’t. But for this series, anyway, home team advantage has been with them for every game.

            The team is eerily quiet as they gear up before the last game. Tony had been so meticulous about everything from taping his stick to lacing his skates, but he’d also been stupid early, so now he has nothing to do but sit and stare at walls and his teammates and think about how they _might actually win_.

            He hasn’t really let himself have the thought before because he knew it could turn at any moment, and he didn’t want to get too cocky. Or too hopeful.

            But now they’re in game seven of the finals and if they win this game then they win the Calder. And it’s a pretty big if, but Tony is feeling weirdly optimistic. They’re a good team, and they’ve actually been playing up to their potential lately. They all _really_ want it, and Tony thinks that that just might be enough to get them where they need to be.

            Rhodey nudges him out of his thoughts. “Hey, Tone, you look like you’re about to break into an inspiring speech, and for the sake of all of us I’d like to ask you to resist.”

            Tony shoots him an offended look. “How dare you. My speeches are amazing. I’ve been taking notes from Steve, and when he gives speeches American flags appear in the background and the anthem starts playing out of nowhere.”

            Rhodey laughs and pushes him again. “Then go for it, captain. Inspire us to victory.”

            Tony clears his throat and stands. “Alright, nerds, listen up.”

            “You’re off to a terrible start,” Rhodey sighs.

            “I’ll thank you to keep your commentary to yourself,” Tony says with a glare. “Now then, I know we haven’t had the easiest year. There have been ups and downs, mostly downs if we’re being honest, but _guys_ … We did it.”

            He pauses and looks around the room at his team, and they’re all looking back at him, nodding and grinning. They actually have done it.

            “Now, I’m not gonna say it doesn’t matter if we win or lose because I know that that’s not even a little bit true because we definitely want to win. But we do have to remember that we started at the very bottom of the league this season, and after today, dare I say it, we’re going to be at the top.”

            There’s a small cheer at that and Tony grins. “We’re a good team, and we deserve to win, and so we’re going to go out there and play the best hockey we can, and that’s going to be enough and we are _going to win_.”

            There’s a bigger cheer, and even Rhodey grins.

            “And also fuck Texas,” Tony finishes with a flourish, sitting back down.

            “So good,” Rhodey says, patting Tony’s leg. “Steve would have been very proud. Riiight up until the end there.”

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

_After a rocky season, the New York Ultimates have really come together in the past few weeks and, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but they have won the Calder Cup! The New York Ultimates are the American Hockey League champions! I don’t think anyone could have predicted this at the beginning of the season. I don’t think anyone could have predicted this at the beginning of the playoffs! It’s a well deserved victory, and a great send off for team captain, Tony Stark, who enters retirement on a career high._

 

            Tony cannot actually believe that this is happening right now. He’s holding the Calder cup in his hands and his team is cheering and hugging all around him. Because they _won_. They actually won.

            He turns to Rhodey and throws his arms around his neck. “Oh my god Rhodey we did it we actually did it.”

            Rhodey laughs and lifts Tony off the ice, grinning so wide the corners of his eyes are crinkled. “Never would have predicted this with your inconsistent ass on the team.”

            Tony laughs and pushes away from Rhodey, spinning them slightly on the ice. Rhodey’s eye catches something over Tony’s shoulder and he smiles, elbowing Tony in the ribs.

            “Looks like someone came to congratulate you.”

            “What?” Tony says, looking confused and glancing over his shoulder.

            And there’s Steve, wearing an Ultimates jersey that definitely has Tony’s name across the back and grinning sheepishly, hands in his pockets. Tony’s mouth drops open and he shoves the Cup into Rhodey’s hands and glides over to Steve, stumbling slightly on the way.

            “Hey Tony,” Steve says, putting a steadying hand on Tony’s arm when he stops.

            “Steve,” Tony says, still not fully comprehending the fact that Steve is _here_ in the flesh, and not in Boston, where he is definitely supposed to be. “Did you… Watch the game?”

            Steve laughs, and places his free hand on Tony’s neck. “Of course I did. Did you really think I was gonna miss this?”

            Tony blinks and reaches out to put a hand on Steve’s chest. Very solid. Definitely real. “So when I talked to you this morning on the phone and you were just so disappointed and apologetic...”

            “I was in the airport,” Steve shrugs. “Thought it would be more fun this way.”

            “Indeed,” Tony says with a grin, moving in closer.

            Steve grins and pulls Tony in with the hand on his neck and kisses him deeply, totally ignoring the chirps from Tony’s team, and the cameras suddenly circling them.

 

**CODA:**

 

            “They’re retiring my number,” Tony says, bouncing a little bit on the balls of his feet.

            “Well,” Steve says, grabbing Tony’s hand to try and still him. “You were a great captain for them. It’s an honor you definitely deserve.”

            Tony keeps bouncing around. “I’m like Gretzky or something.”

            Steve pauses at that and throws Tony some serious side eye. “Yes. The New York Ultimates retiring your number is _exactly_ like the entire NHL retiring number 99.”

            Tony crosses his arms and glares at Steve. “Excuse you, Mr. Hart Memorial, let me have this teeny tiny victory before I have to concede to you becoming the next Bobby Orr.”

            Steve laughs and puts his arm around Tony’s shoulder as they continue walking. “Okay, okay. You’re definitely the Gretzky of the Ultimates.”

            Tony grins and nestles into Steve’s side. “Good.” They walk in silence for a minute before Tony continues. “Besides, I think you just had a fluke first season. There’s no way you’ll beat Sidney Crosby again next year.”

            “Ouch,” Steve says with a small chuckle. “I know you love Sid more than me, but if you could keep those thoughts inside, I think it would be a lot better for our relationship.”

            Tony grins and leans his head against Steve’s shoulder. “Oh, don’t worry, snookums, you know you’ll always be my favorite NHL player.”


End file.
